


Original Sins

by PalomaSheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angels, Demons, Did I mention murder?, Ghost Krolia, Ghosts, M/M, Murder, POV Alternating, Paranormal, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Psychic Abilities, Smoking, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Top Shiro, cop shiro, paranormal stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalomaSheith/pseuds/PalomaSheith
Summary: Keith has spent his life combating evil on his own terms. And it's cost him almost everything. But when a childhood friend sends a mysterious package, Keith finds himself entangled in a series of gruesome murders and working side by side with a homicide detective who is more than he seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Up front:  
> There is mention and description of suicide. So, please do not read this fic if that will upset you. 
> 
> I want to thank my beautiful, wonderful, Beta [CryptidKickFlip](https://twitter.com/cryptidkickflip) for being, well, magical.
> 
> This fic is influenced by Darkhorse/DC Comics' John Constantine, but not compliant within his universe. The title is a nod to the first Hellblazer.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I appreciate you!

“I don’t know why you’re still smoking.”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

Keith couldn’t help the smile tugging at the right side of his mouth. Krolia’s concern always warmed him. Even in this ridiculous freezing drizzle.

That’s London for you.

They walked in amiable silence up the row of graffiti tagged terraced houses. Travelling up the craggy sidewalk past crumbling brick fences until number 24 shone in the streetlight.

Broken police tape fluttered in the mud pit of a lawn. “Fuckin ritzy,” Keith mumbled and strode up the overgrown path to the door. He flicked his cigarette over the side into a bush before buzzing the speaker. “Hey! It’s Keith.”

The cracked appliance garbled to life and harsh whispers gave an indiscernible answer. He looked over his shoulder, Krolia was gone.

Figures. Lance got on her nerves.

The door burst open sending paint flecks flying in Keith’s face followed by the stench of sulfur and decay. Lance was wearing a respirator and bright blue elbow length gloves. Keith rolled his eyes and pushed past him into the house.

What used to be a house, but was now a moldering stereotype of a heroin den.

Matted down carpet, dingy tar stained walls, the red sprinkle of ejected blood around a filthy mattress, crowned by the boxy old TV set on a milk crate.  

“Fuck…” Keith muttered as he surveyed the room. He closed his eyes and briefly thought of looking back at the final hours, but decided against it.

Sure, he’d known things were bad for him, but he didn’t know it was _this_ bad. He kicked his way through the addict’s nest of discarded packets and take away until he could see the blackened outline of James’ body on the stained mattress. “Should have called me sooner…”

A photograph pinned to the wall caught his eye. He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and pulled picture off the wall.

It was old. The orange printed timestamp in the corner confirmed it was taken 20 years ago. Jesus, they were so young.

He fought down a wave of nostalgia looking at the faces of the boys in foreground. Smiling big toothy grins up at the lens, matching uniforms, holding a chalkboard sign that read “First day of Kindergarten” in elaborate cursive writing.

Krolia’s writing.

He heard Lance shuffling in the garbage behind him, stopped the resurgence of memories and brought him back to the present. He took note of the  tar and blood mist smeared across the laminate of the photo and clenched his jaw.

James was dead.

And the other little boy, well, he may as well be.

Keith flipped the photo over and found what he was here for. A message.

In jagged scrawl it read:

“Sent it to Acxa. Keith’ll know what to do. Sorry. J”

Keith tossed the photo on the bed suddenly the room felt too oppressive. He needed air.

He rushed past Lance and back out into the drizzle. He screwed his eyes closed and breathed deeply. He could smell the Thames nearby, hear the industrial clanking of the Dagenham. It was real. It was now.

Acxa.

Whatever the hell James had gotten himself into, he had sent it Acxa assuming that’s where Keith was.

Only, Keith wasn’t there.

And Acxa was dead.

They’d played a dangerous game for a long time. Took a lot gambles. But, the thing about gambling is, well, sometimes you lose.

Acxa lost.

It was simple.

Keith damn near lost. He touched the scar across his cheek. Damn near.

Lance came running up behind him, mask pushed up on his head, stripping off his gloves and flinging them into the lawn. “What is it? What happened? Did you get something?”

Keith didn’t answer. He pulled his cigarette pack from his jacket pocket. Lance rolled his eyes. “Nobody even smokes anymore, Keith. They vape or whatever.”

Keith shrugged. “I guess I’m nobody then.” He struck his lighter. “Book us a flight to St. Louis.”

Lance balked. “We _just_ got to England! Today!”

Keith began to walk away. “Soon as possible. Tonight. Tomorrow. Soon. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“And where are you going to be then?” Lance huffed.

“I need a drink,” Keith answered and disappeared into the rolling fog.

//////

 

Takashi Shirogane was a twin.

Being a twin is not that unusual, of course. However, growing up Kuron and Takashi were unusually close.

Even for twins.

They shared a plate at dinner. They refused separate beds. And constantly interacted with things that nobody else could see.

When they were 5, they spent an entire year not speaking to anyone but each other.

And even then, only using their own special language.

Or at least, they thought it was their special language.

Turns out, it was Japanese.

Which their parents didn’t speak.

Takashi and Kuron’s great-grandfather had been the last Japanese speaking Shirogane in the United States. He died before the boys had been born and they were named after him.

Ami and Stephen Shirogane had questioned the boys extensively about who had taught them the language.

“Sofu told us,” they always replied and would turn and speak to him because, after all, he was right there.

Being good parents, Ami and Stephen were… concerned. And immediately took their sons for extensive mental and physical evaluations. Takashi figured out quickly that if he told the adults what they wanted to hear, they would reward him with soft smiles and kind words. Which, he liked. He liked being “good”.

Kuron on the other hand, was determined to make the adults understand that _they_ were the ones mistaken. That sofu was there and there were _lots_ of good, fun, people that they could talk to if they would just look.

And there were “bad ones” too. The creatures.

Takashi tried to tell Kuron that he just needed to tell them what they wanted to hear, but it made him angry. “Kashi, tell them that see them! You’re lying!”

But Takashi took one look at his parent’s worried faces and said, “Kuro, I don’t see anything.”

And in that moment, their bond was never the same. _They_ were never the same.

Takashi spent the next 13 years denying that there was anything different about him. He was Shiro now. And Shiro was normal. He played rugby and got straight A’s. He dated cute jock guys and wanted to join the Marine Corps.

Shiro was _normal._ And eventually, he was.

He stopped seeing.

Kuron was never gave up on his mission to convince his family that the things he saw were real. He fervently studied theology, religious histories, and demonology.

He would spend days and sometimes weeks locked away in his room. He would speak to things nobody could see. Scream at the walls. Whisper to himself while staring out the window.

The final straw came when Shiro found him sitting in the middle of his room covered in blood carving symbols into his arms.

He said it was for protection.

The doctors told them that Kuron had schizophrenia with religious delusions.

He sent to a “live-in facility” 40 miles away.

Which is where Shiro found himself now. He pushed past the local officers in the hallway, ignoring their protests. His heart pounded in his ears as he neared the room.

No no no no no no.

Matt stepped out of the doorway of the room in the question and rubbed his hands across his face. He pulled a double take as Shiro rushed towards him and moved to block the other man's path.

“Shiro, no!”

Shiro craned his neck trying to look past his partner. “Matt, I-Where-Where is he?”

Matt shook his head and pushed Shiro back. “Shiro, please,” Matt pleaded, “You don't want to see him like this.”

Shiro choked out a sob, “I have to, Matt. Matt. Stop. I-I have to. I have to.” He pushed past him and charged into Kuron's room.

And froze.

He hadn't known. He hadn't suspected.

“No…” He forced his legs to move forward as he took in the stark white walls, now stained red with blood smeared to form symbols.

Symbols bunched together like words.

But Shiro didn't recognize the language.

He forced his eyes from the walls to the blood mottled sheet draped over a supine figure on the floor.

The two men inside looked up at him. The shorter one approached him, arms outstretched, “You can't be here.”

Shiro kept his eyes fixed on the figure on the floor and handed fished his badge out of his pocket. “I'm his brother,” his voice was soft. He knelt next to the body. The men, local officers, exchanged a look. The older one nodded.

The other cleared his throat. “I'm sorry for your loss, Detective Shirogane.”

Shiro wasn't listening.

He slowly pulled the sheet from Kuron’s face with silent tears dropping from his eyes. He leaned over his brother's face and gently moved his long hair from his lips and cheeks. “How?” Shiro asked as he took in Kuron’s thin face.

The officers hesitated, shifting weight and shuffling feet. Finally the older one replied. “He, uh… cut his arms open. He bled out. It’s… a suicide, Detective.”

Shiro shook his head. “No.”

“I know this is hard, sir,” the other officer added, “but we checked the video. Nobody came in or out.”

Shiro pulled the sheet down further revealing his brother’s bared chest. He couldn’t suppress the loud sobs that escaped. Kuron’s chest was covered in cuts in various states of healing. All of them similar to the ones he had carved on his body as a teenager. Only there were so many.

“For protection” he’d said. But from what?

What was he afraid of?

“Kuro…” Shiro choked the word out.

He failed him. He’d failed him in so many ways.

“There’s uh… there’s a note too,” the older officer offered.

Shiro blinked up at the man. He was probably in his 50’s, salt and pepper mustache, out of style glasses, kind round face. Clearly uncomfortable as he offered a bagged piece of notebook paper to Shiro.

 

_Kashi,_

_You have to stop lying and find him. He’s the only one who can stop what’s coming._

  1. _K. K._



_I’m sorry._

_Kuro_

 

There were more symbols drawn across the bottom. Shiro stared at the page uncomprehending.

He read it again.

And again.

“I don’t…” The words died on his tongue and he looked back at Kuron.

“Shiro.” Matt's voice was uncharacteristically soft behind him. “Come on.”

Shiro nodded and handed the note back. He gently laid the fabric over Kuron's chest. He paused at his face. He looked peaceful despite it all. Long black and white hair fanned out like a macabre halo. He could have been sleeping. Just waiting for Shiro to nudge him awake.

Another sob wrenched from Shiro's chest. Those golden eyes would be clouded now. Seeing no more.

He draped the sheet over his brother's face.

Matt stepped back as Shiro got to his feet. He looked back at the wall. “What does it say?”

“They're not sure yet,” Matt answered. He stepped toward the door, hand on Shiro's back guiding him out. “It's Hebrew. They're going to have it translated and let us know.”

“No.” Shiro stopped and turned back. “Take some pictures. Pidge can do it.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.  Instead, he nodded and pulled his phone out.

Shiro watched as his oldest friend snapped photos of his brother's bloodied scrawl. He was vaguely aware of a few errant tears still traveling down his cheeks.

  


///////

 

Keith garnered a few dirty looks from students as he stalked across the parking lot to the history department, carelessly flicking his cigarette butt off to the right.

“It’s a non-smoking campus,” Krolia scolded next to him.

Keith shrugged. He hadn’t seen her since Dagenham. “Good thing I’m not a student then, isn’t it?”

She frowned. “You could have been. You still could be.”

“No, I couldn’t.” He pulled open the heavy wooden doors of the hall and slipped into the beige corridors searching.

Krolia following behind.

Always following behind.

On the second floor he finds her. Or rather, she finds him.

He was peering into an empty office when the call of “Keith!” a green and blonde blur and he was grappled into a tight hug. He laughed and patted the petite figure on the back.

“Hey, Pidge,” he laughed and stepped back out of her grasp.

She looked good. Close cropped blonde hair, oversized green sweater hanging off her narrow shoulders, and brown Doc Martens with lime green laces. She looked twelve.

Classic Pidge.

She beamed up at him. “When did you get back to the States? Why didn’t you call? Text?”  She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her office. At twenty-three, she was the youngest professor on campus and probably the most brilliant.

But Keith was biased.

“She’s still a handful,” Krolia mused.

He laughed. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want her any other way.”

Pidge shook her head as she pushed him into a wooden chair across from her desk. “Tell Krolia I said ‘hi’.”  
He straightened up in his seat, adjusting his jacket. “We’ve been over this, Pidge.” He smirked up at her under his bangs. “She can hear you.”

Pidge shrugged and plopped into her desk chair piled high with neon colored pillows and a university themed blanket. “I know, it just seems rude.”

“Tell her I say ‘hello’,” Krolia laughed next to him.

“She says ‘hi’,” he repeated and sat forward in his chair. “I just got in today, so don’t be angry.”

“Where’s Lance?”

“I sent him to get some supplies.”

Pidge hummed. “I can only imagine what that means for you.”

The silence that falls over the broom closet sized office felt heavier than he’d like. “What is it, Pidge?”

She looked away, pretending to be overly interested in the ragged edges of a notebook. “I’m sorry. For, you know, Acxa. I-uh-I went to her funeral.”

A tic worked in his jaw. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t really know her, but… She meant a lot to you, so I figured I would go.”

He cleared his throat. “She knew the risks. We both did. She chose him.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, Keith.”

No, it doesn’t.

He shifted uncomfortably under her sympathy. “I just wanted to let you know I was going to be around. I don’t know how long, but I’ll be at the old place.”

Pidge just nodded.

“And I might need that brain of yours while I’m here too.” He stood to go.

She rolled her eyes. “Geez, you know how to make a girl feel special.”

Keith leaned back over her desk, “You’re always special, Pidge.” He flashed her a smile and dodged the paper wad she lobbed at him.

“Is this about the weird murders?”

He paused. “Weird murders?”

She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “It’s demonic isn’t it?”

“Why do you think that?” He was hedging.  
She crossed her arms and quirked a brow. “Because you’re here.”

He huffed. “Just because I’m here, doesn’t mean that it’s to do with demons.”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

Damn her brilliant mind. “I’m here to pick up a package from James. He sent it to Acxa’s. He didn’t know. About her. About us.”

“James? You haven’t spoken to him in years. How is he?”

He stood up straight. “Dead.”

She flinched. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Smack’ll do that.” He shoved his hands in his pocket. “What about these murders?”

Pidge narrowed her eyes, “Matt’s working on a series of murders that are… unusual.”

“Define ‘unusual’.”

She sighed. “Investment banker who was suffocated when someone shoved $40,000 down his throat, vegan chef was found with 15 pounds of meat in her stomach, preacher with hundreds of pictures of gay porn crammed crammed up his… well, you get the picture.”

“Poetic.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“But not necessarily supernatural. People are evil on their own too, Pidge.”

“Sure. But-”

He tugged his jacket collar. “Someone watched Seven on repeat and thought Kevin Spacey was a role model. I’m not here for that.”

“At least, promise you’ll see me again before you take off for Ghana or wherever.” There was genuine hurt in her voice.

Keith hated that. “Yeah, I promise.”  She deserved that at least. “Maybe bring Matt?”

She perked up. “He’d like that. He misses you too.”

“Maybe I’ll see him.” He paused at the doorway. “Tell Sam and Colleen, I’m okay, will you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer.

“You should see them, Keith,” Krolia said quietly.

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“It’s for the best.”

“For who?”

He went down the stairs two at time, leaving Krolia on the landing.

Dead people shouldn’t be so damn opinionated.

He leaned against the walls outside the building gathering strength. He knew the next step. He just didn’t want to take it.

Who really wants to visit their dead ex-girlfriend’s apartment?

He clunked his head back against the rough concrete.

“Hey,” a deep velvet voice caught his attention. He opened his eyes, but didn’t bother to move his head. “Are you okay?”

He blinked a few times and decided to straighten his posture. He looked the man up and down. He was tall. Six-four? Japanese. Close cropped black hair, save white bangs. And built like Greek hero in dark denim.

At first glance he thought the man was one of the Forgiven, but the prosthetic arm killed that thought.

“I’m-uh-I’m fine,” Keith managed.

The man smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were grey tinged sadness. “You sure?”

Keith wanted to know what it would look like if he _really_ smiled. Or better yet, sprawled out under him while Keith rode him.  He cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He banished the thoughts.

The watched him a few seconds longer. Seeing too much for Keith’s comfort. “You looked like you were going to throw up.”

Probably.

“I’m not.”

Someone shouted in the distance,”Shiro!”The man turned away. Keith took the opportunity to slip away.

He had work to do, the last thing he needed was some hot college jock distracting him.

  


/////////

  


Shiro watched the young man disappear in the parking lot. He could feel energy lingering in the air in where he stood. He wanted to reach out and touch it.

Touch him. Feel that electricity with his fingers.

Make him smile. See what those eyes looked like when he did.

Or how they looked from below half lidded in pleasure while he rode him.

Shiro pushed the thoughts away.

No.

He was here for Kuron. Not chasing after some college kid.

Matt called him again. “Come on, big guy!”  

Between Kuron’s cremation and dealing with his parents, it had taken a week for Shiro to gather himself enough to venture to the university. So by the time he peeked his head into Pidge’s tiny office, he wasn’t sure how she’d receive him. Bear hugs and punches were both very real possibilities.

He knocked on the doorframe before stepping carefully inside. “Pidge?”

She froze and dropped the paperwad she was holding. “Shiro!” She leapt at him wrapping her arms and legs around him and squeezing with a strength that contradicted her size. “Shiro! Oh God! How are you? I wanted to give you some time, but I missed you so much!”

Bear hug it was then. He coughed and patted her on the head. “Good to see you too, Pidge.”

Matt scoffed and squeezed past them. “You’re never that happy to see me.” He unceremoniously plopped into a rounded wooden chair and slung his legs onto his sister’s desk. “It’s hurtful really.”

Pidge scowled and unwound her limbs from Shiro’s body.  “Maybe if you were actually nice to me, I would be. And get your nasty feet off of my desk!” She pushed his legs off the surface as she rounded the desk and hopped into her chair. Matt grumbled and resituated himself in his seat, pointedly flipping his ponytail.

Shiro smiled at them. Although they bickered and competed, the Holt siblings loved each other dearly.  They had a foster brother somewhere that they doted on too. Keith.

They were always proud and worried and supportive. Their closeness was enviable.

Especially now.

“Shiro?” Pidge’s voice snapped him back to the present.

He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Yeah?”

She pursed her lips and assessed him with her bright amber eyes.

“I’m fine. You, uh, you said that you had the translations for me?” Shiro leaned against the wall trying to look casual. And failing.

Pidge didn’t push it. “Yeah. So, it’s Hebrew.” She opened a blue folder and began shuffling through papers and photos. “And well, at first glance, I couldn’t make much sense of it. So, I got some help from a friend who works closer with theology.” She handed a paper to Matt who stared at it and then back at her. He passed the paper back to Shiro. It was, well, it was nonsense.

“What is this?” Shiro forced himself to swallow.

She looked up at him with an expression he didn’t want to place. Soft eyes, downturned lips, that worried brow. Sympathy. Shiro didn’t want it. He wanted answers. He needed more than this. He needed Kuron’s death to make sense.

“Have you heard of Kabbalah?” she asked.

Shiro shook his head.

“Kabbalah is, in the most basic terms, an ancient Jewish tradition which focuses on mysticism. In Kabbalah, there is an emphasis on the importance of words, names specifically. There is power in words. In names. What Kuron was doing here was using common protection spells to try and defend himself.”

“From what?” Shiro croaked.

“Well, it appears he was using primarily backwards reduction to stop something or someone called Sendak. And in other parts he was using nonsense. Which isn’t just nonsense in Kabbalah. He used random, rhythmic phrases in a mixture of Sumerian and Greek.”

“What does any of this mean?” Matt urged. “Does this mean anything at all? What about the bottom of the suic-the, uh, note? To Shiro?”

“The bottom of the note said, ‘Join the company of lions rather than assume the lead among foxes’. It’s from the Talmud.”

“I see,” Shiro frowned. He didn’t see.

“Look Pidge,” Matt stood and gave Shiro a cautious look and turned back to Pidge, “Magic? PIdgeon, are you talking about magic? Demons and shit?  Should we be talking… I mean, Keith-”

Pidge shook her head. “Keith’s here, Matt.”  
“What?”

“Yeah, he just left when you two showed up.”

“So the murders-”

“I think so.”

“Fuck.”

“What are you two talking about?” Shiro asked. “The murders? The ones we’re working? You think Kuron had something to do with it?”

“Not exactly,” Pidge hedged.

Shiro’s anger surged. “My brother was a lot of things, he was sick. But he wasn’t a killer. He was locked in that-that place-” his voice cracked “Kuron has nothing to do with this.”

The Holts exchanged a look.

“That’s not what I meant, Shiro,” Matt replied cautiously, “Not at all, man. I just- _we_ just meant that maybe there’s more to all of this.”

“Like the religious angle,” Pidge added. She stole a look at Matt before continuing. “Our brother, Keith, he’s in town. He’s kind of a specialist in this sort of thing.”

Shiro frowned. “I don’t know what this has to do with Kuron.”

“Have you maybe considered-” The harsh ring of Matt’s phone cut Pidge off. He exchanged a couple of monosyllabic words and grunt before hanging up. He turned back to Shiro and blew out a harsh breath. “We got another one.”

“Where?”

“Over on Olive. Across from the park.”

  


////////

  


Keith stared at the awning. THE ELDER FROST LOFTS was printed in plain black font on a beige background. The front door was steel and glass and flanked by glass brick windows. The metal call box had a crisp new name card beside 202.

Keith tried to ignore the twinge in his chest.

She was really gone.

If he'd done more, been better, would she have stayed?

Stayed.

Where? Here? Alone?

No. She was better off without him. With someone else.

But not _him._

Keith's thought were cut short when a young blonde woman stepped out of the front door followed by a panting German shepherd.

Time to work.

He slid his foot in the door just in time to stop the lock from catching and swept inside.

Memories assaulted him mercilessly. The smell of floor wax, the tacky blue paint, the community mailboxes… They all seemed to speak out with forgotten little moments.

Each stair held another piece of her life.

Acxa's laughter on this one. His hand caught in hers sneaking inside after too many drinks.

Stolen kisses here. Raised voices on the landing. The tired look in her eyes. The way she hiccupped when she cried.

Keith pushed the thoughts aside as he ascended to the second floor.

But it was pointless.

In front of the door, he could still see her closing it the last time. He’d come back from Singapore. Four months this time. It was raining. He’d expected her to be happy to see him. To be alone.

She wasn’t.

“I'm sorry, Keith. I'm in love with him.” The hallways track lighting caught on the glint of metal on her finger.

A ring.

“I think you should go.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but a smooth male voice called to her. He clamped his lips closed and swallowed any retort and left.

She made her choice.

A door slammed downstairs and jolted him back to the present. Clearing his throat, Keith knocked.

A man answered. Middle aged and rotund. Red framed glasses and a shaved head. He assessed Keith with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’m Keith Kogane. I, uh, used to live here. With… Axca. I was out of the country when she died. I just wanted to-”

The man's expression shifted to something softer. “Oh my God! Ok.” He stepped back and waved Keith inside.

Keith’s boots clicked on the polished concrete floor. Exposed red brick. White drywall. Keith inhaled. Let his mind search the space. It felt empty.

“I’m really sorry for your loss. I didn't know her, but I went to school with her husband. Lotor.” The man stopped in front of Keith.

“Yeah. Her husband.”

“The landlord said you may come by. He said you travelled a lot and may not have known.” The man walked further into the loft and motioned to Keith.

Keith followed. “Tell me something, have any packages come for her? Or me?”

“Well, now that you-”

That's when he saw it. The canvas was taller than he was and probably 5 feet wide. It was braced against the wall on a wrinkled drop cloth. Garish yellow and blue paint on the canvas formed a bird’s eye of the tower in which they stood. Pigment shaped to form glass blown out the window and a woman's face, eyes vacant; mouth agape as she fell toward the black stained pavement below.

The man followed Keith's gaze and blanched. “Oh God,” he scrambled to cover it. He tossed a spare drop cloth over it while profusely apologizing.

Keith wasn't listening. He closed his eyes again and reached out with his mind. Still nothing. Whatever James had sent was gone.

When he opened his eyes, the man appeared in front of him still babbling about how insensitive he was. “I don’t mean anything disrespectful. It’s a tribute-”

Keith cut him off. “The package. Where is it?”

The man paused. Eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to retrace the conversation. Finally, he seemed to understand. “Oh! Well, it arrived and I was going to an exhibition that I knew Lotor would be at, so I gave it him. It seemed like he would know what to do with it.”

For fuck's sake.

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled and turned on his heel.

The man scrambled to walk him out. He held the door open. “Again I'm sorry-”

Keith clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It's a fair likeness.” The man blinked. He was beginning to remind Keith of a fish. “But the hair’s all wrong.” Keith turned away and bounded down the stairs and into the chilly afternoon air.

Krolia was waiting. “Now what?”

Keith fumbled for his cigarettes ignoring the shaking in his hands. Krolia watched silently through narrowed eyes until he answered. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He took a drag and began walking. “What am I supposed to do? Go find a millionaire art dealer who happens to be Acxa’s widower and ask for my mail? I can imagine that'll go smoothly.”

“Keith… This is important. Whatever was in there killed James.”

Keith stopped abruptly staring down at the pavement. “James killed himself. He got in too deep. And then he… He couldn't handle it. He went dark… like Dad.”  Keith flicked the cigarette away, the smoke suddenly making him nauseous. “It’s why I couldn’t be around him anymore. He didn’t-He couldn’t…”

James didn’t have Keith’s gifts. James didn’t have the abilities to do what Keith did.

And it fucking infuriated him. So he made a deal.

Keith squeezed his eyes closed. His voice was soft, “I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I’m tired.”

Krolia bit her lip. “I know, sweetheart. It isn’t fair. None of this is fair to you. But people like us, like _you_ have a duty. I know you feel it too. This isn’t just a package. Something is wrong here.”

Keith rolled his neck and sighed. He felt it. Felt it since he got that damn voicemail from James. This is big. “I’ll try,” he conceded.

They rounded the corner onto Olive and stepped into a crowd. “What?” He began pushing through toward the building. Flashing lights, wooden barricades, and welcomed him home. Then he saw them. “Shrouds…” Dark ethereal figures lingering in the street waiting for a soul to drag to their master in hell. Shrouds circled the dead like vultures waiting for the spirits of the damned to sever their last threads with life.

Keith vaulted the barrier and ducked the plastic tape.

“Hey! Hey! You can't just do that!” A uniformed officer put a firm hand on his chest. Keith smiled and looked him up and down. He patted the officer on the arm. “Easy there, officer.” He sidestepped and started toward the entrance. “I'm just here from the M.E. I hate getting called in on these.” The officer hesitated and then followed him toward the building. “You know what I mean? What floor are they on again?”

“Um… 5th.”

Keith's floor. Dammit. “Thanks.” He flashed a smile and hurried inside. Away from the noise and away from the Shrouds.

By the time he climbed the stairs to the 5th floor, Krolia was back by his side. She was there, but paler. Faded. “Are you ok?” he asked chewing his bottom lip.

She gave a weak smile. “I will be.” The Shrouds. Their presence was draining her.

He hesitated with his hand on the door of the stairwell. “You can use me if you need to.” He stared down his hand on the brass.

“Keith, you know I won’t.”

“You need energy.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Fine.” He pulled the door open with more force than necessary and stepped out into the hallway.

And froze. The hallway felt alive with energy. Not from the officers and techs milling around the open apartment, but from something… else. Something dark. Demonic. “Fuck,” Keith mumbled to himself. “I hate it when Pidge is right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> So again thanks so much to CryptidKickFlip for their great Beta-ing and everyone who is here.  
> I appreciate everyone who reads.  
> Every kudos and comment makes my life.  
> I love this fandom and Sheith.  
> Thank you so much!

* * *

Shiro snapped his gloves on as he crossed the threshold into the victim’s bedroom. The feel of black nitrile was a familiar sensation, an anchor he needed as he surveyed the scene. The room was beautifully decorated in an array of pinks and golds.  Prominently displayed crowns and sashes adorned the shelves and caught the lamplight. A framed photo on the vanity of a perky blonde in a sash that read Miss Missouri 1995 caught his eye in a camera flash. A tech was cataloguing each jar of anti-aging cream and bottle of lotion.

The overstuffed four-poster bed was the centerpiece of the room with shimmering silks draped over the rails and framing the woman’s body in a lurid display that would have made Hieronymus Bosch take notes.

She looked ethereal with precise lines of kohl lining her milky blue eyes, deep scarlet lipstick was painted precisely over her lips. Her bottle blonde hair was fanned out in tight ringlets across her pillows. She was dressed in a glittering blue evening gown with coordinated silver stilettos. The very image of an aging beauty queen.

The only thing out of place was her torso. Her killer had fastidiously hollowed out a large rectangle in her abdomen and filled the cavity with mirrors.  

“Jesus,” Matt mumbled as he entered the bedroom behind Shiro. “I’m going out on a limb here and say that this is definitely our guy.”

“He spent a long time with her.” Shiro leaned over the bed taking in every detail he could. “Her makeup, hair… All this is post. This took longer than the others we’ve seen. I mean, the preacher, that one took time too, but this… He’s getting more elaborate. It’s not the kill that’s feeding him.”

“Feeding him?”

“Yeah…” Shiro cocked his head and ran a gloved fingertip across the incision site. He could feel it. The hunger. “It needs to eat.” But not flesh. Not really. Killing was necessary, but it wasn’t the endgame.

“Shiro?” He started when Matt’s hand made contact with his shoulder. Shiro shot upright and saw Matt’s sharp eyes watching him under furrowed brows. “Where’d you go, man? Are you ok?”

Shiro glanced back at the body. “Y-yeah. I’m good. Just tired.” Matt didn’t believe him, but knew better than to push it. He just needed to clear his head.

“What did you mean?”

Shiro raised a brow.

“You said ‘it needs to eat’. What does that mean?”

“It means,” a voice interrupted, “That you’re dealing in my area of expertise.”

Matt whipped around. “Keith?” Shiro watched his partner scoop the newcomer up in a tight embrace.

Bright violet eyes met Shiro’s over Matt’s shoulder and he couldn’t conceal his surprise. “Sad college kid?”

The man’s lips quirked up into a satisfied smirk. “Hot jock guy.” He stepped out of Matt’s arms and toward Shiro. “I’m Keith. Matt’s brother.”

Shiro felt the heat creep across his face. He blinked and absently took Keith’s hand in his own, long slim fingers enveloped his grip. His skin tingling at the contact. “What are you doing here?”

  


///////

  


Keith stared down at his hand wrapped in the other man’s grip trying not to think too hard on the size difference. “I’m a consultant.”

It was almost true.

Sometimes. It was sometimes true.

He just wasn’t working for the SLMPD. Or anybody else at the moment.

Matt coughed beside him and he realized that he was still holding onto Hot Jock’s hand. Keith pulled away and stuffed his hand in his pocket. Matt snickered.

“I’m Detective Shirogane. Matt’s partner. I didn’t know they were bringing anyone in.” He narrowed his eyes at Keith.

Matt stepped clapped his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Shiro, come on. I mean, how would he even be in here if it wasn’t on the level?”

Shiro’s eyes flitted back and forth between Keith and Matt, brows furrowed and working his jaw. Weighing the outcomes. “Fine,” he said finally, something shifting in his tone, “Call me Shiro. It’s nice to meet you Keith. Even if it’s… less than ideal circumstances.”

“Yeah, you too.” He was staring. Keith knew he was, but so was Shiro. A smile crept across his lips and he looked up at the detective through his lashes. “Ideal or not.”

A camera flash cut through the amber glow of the bedroom jarring them both. Matt cleared his throat and patted Keith’s arm. “Yeah. Nice. Ok. So, here’s the body, Keith.”

Right. The body.

This is a murder scene. And Keith was making bedroom eyes at his brother’s partner over a corpse. This was a new level of fucked up.

He stepped past Shiro and felt the other man’s eyes following him.

He glanced over his shoulder and met steel grey eyes. Or maybe Shiro was just as fucked up. It’s a nice thought.

“Meet Michelle Allman,” Matt quipped. He pressed Keith forward and waved his right hand like game show host. “Cosmetic marketing consultant and former pageant princess.”

Keith inhaled slowly and let his mind search out the room.

Residual energies lingered like loose threads in the breeze.

Michelle on the phone or trying on dresses. Putting on her crowns and crying at the vanity.

But hovering over each memory he saw, was the hunger. The gnawing emptiness consuming the demon.  

And his human puppet.

She had what he needed.They all had it.

Obsession.

Addiction.

Compulsion.

Whatever you called it, he fed on it. Needed it.

Keith’s eyes snapped open. He knew that energy. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Matt asked.

Keith debated on what to say, a desperate laugh escaped his throat. “I need to confirm it.” He headed for the door before Matt could ask any questions.

Krolia was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed leaning on the counter. She looked better. More solid. “What is it?”

“I think I know. But I need to make sure.”

“Ok. What do you _think_ it is?”

Keith hesitated. And that told her everything. She stood up straight and watched him with a worried expression. “Keith…”

“We don’t know for sure, Mom.”

“Mom?” Keith spun around at the interruption. Shiro was standing next to the sink, arms crossed, angry. “Your mother? Is she a consultant too?”

“Keith?” Krolia asked looking at Shiro. “He can see me.”

“Of course I can see you,” Shiro huffed. “This is a crime scene, ma’am. You need to leave.”

Well, Keith hadn’t been expecting this. Interesting.

Krolia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like this.”

“You have to go,” Shiro reiterated., “Matt!” he called over his shoulder.

“Keith, should I…?” Krolia chewed her lip.

“Stay,” Keith replied, keeping his eyes fixed on Shiro’s.

Surprise flitted across the detective’s features. He lifted one silver eyebrow and narrowed his gaze accepting Keith’s unspoken challenge.

“What’s up?” Matt asked as he leaned into the room.

“Escort Keith’s mother out of the crime scene,” Shiro looked very satisfied with himself.

Matt stared.

It took all of Keith’s willpower not to laugh. He settled for a smile. “Yeah, Matt, walk Krolia out.”

Blinking Matt stared at Shiro. “You can see her?”  
“Of course I can see her. She’s right there.” Irritation seeped into his tone. “Now isn’t the time for one of your pranks. This is an active crime scene.”

“Shiro, I think maybe we should take this outside,” Matt pulled his partner’s arm.

Shiro easily shook him off. “What is your problem?” He was angry now.

Following a sudden instinct, Keith stepped up to Shiro and placed a hand on his forearm. “Shiro,” he spoke calmly meeting the larger man’s eyes. “My mother, Krolia, she died when I was eight.”

Shiro’s expression shifted. “She what?” He looked over at Krolia and back at Keith. “I don’t… I mean. No.” He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t want this.”

“It’s ok, Shiro.” He watched his pained expression and felt a pang of empathy. “You felt something in there, didn’t you?”

Shiro slowly opened his eyes. He searched Keith’s face with a defeated look. “Yeah.” It was barely a whisper.

Keith cupped Shiro’s jaw. “We need to go talk.” He held Shiro’s eyes until he nodded.

“Ok.”

“My apartment is at the end of the hall. We can talk there.”

 

When Keith opened the door, there was single light on. Yellow light spilled from the lamp sitting on the floor next to Lance. He’d tilted the lampshade and was sitting cross legged in the living room floor surrounded by old books and canvas bags. He had no less than seven Red Vines in his mouth and Daymé Arocena wafting from the computer speakers. “Bout time you showed up. How’s Pidge?” Lance didn’t look up from the page, “Does she miss me? I still wanna take her down to Lona’s. I think she’d like it. Especially with me.” He laughed and glanced at the doorway. He pulled a double take and hopped to his feet when it registered Keith wasn’t alone. His book tumbled to the floor and the lamp swayed dangerously. “Wh-what the fuck? You brought people? Wait! Is that Matt?”

Matt gave a weak wave. “Hey Lance.”

Lance frowned and waved a Red Vine at Shiro. “And who’s this guy?”

Shiro answered. “I’m Detective Shirogane. I’m Matt’s partner. Your, um,” Keith watched Shiro’s eyes catch on Lance’s silky blue pajama bottoms and flit back to Keith, “Your boyfriend said that we could talk here.”  
Lance choked. “Boyfriend?!” He fixed Keith with a glare. “You told him I was your boyfriend? You _wish_ I was your boyfriend.” Lance raked his gaze up and down Keith’s body. “ I could do better than you!”

Matt cackled next to them. “Oh God! This is great! Wait til I tell Pidge!”

“Fuck you, Matt!” Lance barked.

“Stop it,” Keith snapped. “Lance is _not_ my boyfriend, Shiro. He’s my, uh, work guy… Assistant.”

“Assistant?” Lance angrily bit into a licorice. “More like your chauffeur slash babysitter slash the best friend you ever had!” Lance plopped back on the floor and straightened his book. “Not to mention the best damn researcher in the world! But sure, yeah, assistant, Keith. Let’s go with that.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Matt, make stay with the World’s Best Researcher while I talk to Shiro.” He grabbed Shiro’s hand and pulled him towards the back room.

Keith’s bedroom.

Or more accurately, his glorified storage closet with a bed.

He grimaced when he flicked on the light revealing the scrolls, books, and reliquaries from the world over filling every available space. Keith hefted a box of branches from the Glastonbury Thorn Tree from his worn office chair and offered it to Shiro. He sat on the foot of his unmade bed. “So,” Keith drew the word out buying time to figure out how to start. It was clear that Shiro was aware somewhat of his ability, but just because he Saw didn’t mean he could be trusted.

Although, it’s all Keith wanted to do. He frowned at the thought.

Shiro cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “What is all of this about?” His voice is cautious. “What’s really going on here? I know you’re not telling me everything.”

Keith hummed. “You’re right. I’m not.” He smiled at Shiro. “But neither are you.” He shrugged out of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows.

Shiro blanched, eyes lingering on Keith’s forearms and the tattoos painting his skin. Keith arched a brow at Shiro and held his arms out for inspection. Slowly, Shiro leaned forward riveted. His finger grazed the runes on Keith’s skin sending sparks through his body.

“Who are you?” Shiro looked up at Keith. There was vulnerability etched across his features. Keith was drawn to it. “I’m Keith Kogane. But you knew that.”  He leaned forward eyes fixed on Shiro’s lips. “You want to know _what_ I am.” He met his gaze. Spoke softly. “They have a lot of names for what I am: Hellblazer. Exorcist,” he smirked, “Magician.”

“Not Consultant?” Shiro asked dryly tone belying the playfulness in his eyes. His hand was still warm on Keith’s arm.

Keith smiled fully. “Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you,” Shiro shifted forward again. The harsh ceiling lighting should have downplayed his attractiveness, but the sharp angles accentuated the strong lines of his face. The new angle highlighted fullness of his lashes and pink of his lips. Keith leaned forward drawn like a moth to house fire. He absently licked his lips and thrilled when Shiro’s eyes followed the gesture.

Krolia appeared next him, arms crossed. “You like him,” she deadpanned.

Keith leaned back and cut her a look. “He can hear you.”

She smiled. “I know.”

Shiro sat up and dark blush dusted his cheeks. Cute.

“So,” Krolia cocked a hip and leveled her gaze at the detective, “You’re Sighted, but you’re hiding it. You don't seem to have a lot of knowledge on what you’re dealing with. You just want to catch a killer. Fine. But I don’t trust you. You need to stay out of the way and let Keith do his job. You can file the paperwork.”

  


///////

  


Shiro straightened his posture. “Look, I can see you. I can hear you. But, I haven’t always- What I mean is, I thought it was gone.”

“You _hoped_ it was gone,” Keith said. “I get it.” He bit his lip and glanced at his mother. “Believe me.”

“Clearly it isn’t. You’re not equipped to handle this,” Krolia kept her tone even.

“And you are?” Shiro asked.

“Better than you,” she shot back. “You’re going to get yourself killed and endanger my son.”

Shiro schooled his features. She was right, he was off his game. But, he was talking to a dead woman in a strange man’s apartment, so what was the standard? “I understand your concern, ma’am. But I just want to understand what’s happening here. Why can I see you now? Why were in you at my crime scene?”

“Shiro,” Keith interjected, “What were you feeling in that room?”

“I don’t know,” he lied.

Keith watched him.

Shiro shifted.  “I can’t describe it.”

He could.

Keith stood suddenly. Shiro found himself bracketed by his arms, face mere centimeters away as he leaned down over him. “I’m not going to fuck around here,” his voice was soft, but the tone left no room misunderstanding. “We’re dealing with a demon. He’s got a puppet who is killing to feed it. It’s going to keep going and it’s going to get worse. You want to save lives? Then stop lying to me.” Indigo eyes bored into him and hot breath ghosted across his lips. It’d be so simple to close that distance. Taste that passion. Feel those sparks. Instead Shiro pushed the desire down.

“Hunger,” Shiro breathed. “Need. I could feel him. Feel what he felt”

“Do you want to stop him?”

“Yes.”

Keith nodded and hovered a moment longer. “We need to wake you up then,” he whispered and pushed himself off the chair arms.

Shiro closed his eyes and tried to control his heartbeat. “W-what do you mean?”

Keith was rummaging through an overflowing bookshelf. Shiro watched as he climbed up on the shelf. “Here it is!” He hopped down holding a small tin and grinning. Shiro watched as Keith grabbed his prosthetic and placed the tin in his palm. Keith carefully wrapped his fingers around the container. Shiro was struck by the action. Keith didn’t flinch. He never second guessed it. “That should keep you safe in the meantime.” Keith winked at him.

Shiro unfurled his hand and frowned. “Altoids?”

“No,” Keith opened the lid revealing-

“Dust?”

“Ash.”

“Ash? From what?”

“From who,” Keith corrected as he lifted the small plastic bag from the tin. “St. Benedict and his sister St. Scholastica. They share an urn. So, uh, they're mixed up in there. But it's fine. It'll keep you safe until I can confirm things. Get a plan.”

Shiro watched as Keith slid back into his jacket. The worn red leather hugged his lean frame and Shiro found it hard to keep his hands to himself. He looked over at Krolia who was watching him through narrowed eyes.  He dropped the tin in his pocket and followed Keith to the doorway.

“I need to get back to the scene,” he pulled a card out of his pocket and leaned over the desk to scribble his number, “I want you to text me.” He held it out to Keith.

A playful smile danced across Keith’s lips. “Do you?” He scissored his fingers over the paper.

Shiro cleared his throat fighting the heat rising on his neck. “I do. You know things. I need answers.”

Keith hummed and flicked his fingers. The card was gone. “I’ll call you.”

Shiro smiled despite his best efforts. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“I bet.”

Shiro shifted. “I mean it, Keith. I need answers.”

“I know. But why?”

“I have my reasons,” Shiro looked over at Krolia, eyes still fixed to him. Keith reached out and redirected his attention back to him. “I want to tell you.” The words tumbled out of Shiro’s mouth. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was the contact. Maybe it was this tension between them. But whatever the reason, he wanted to tell Keith everything.

Keith whispered something incoherent and the air shifted around them. Before Shiro had a chance to understand what the shift in atmosphere meant, Keith surged forward closing the distance between them.

Their mouths slotted together naturally. When Shiro pressed his tongue to the seam of Keith’s lips, he was granted entrance. They synced instinctively, sharing breaths, and matching rhythm.

Keith bit his bottom lip and he shivered. “Keith…” He slotted his hands against his hips and, Christ, they fit perfectly. Keith moaned into his mouth and Shiro pulled his body flush.

“Fucking really?”

Shiro startled and pulled Keith tighter with his left hand, right hovering over his weapon.

Matt stood in the doorway pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re literally in the middle of a murder case, who happens to be your neighbor,” he pointed at Keith. Then Shiro, “And then you found out you can see ghosts and shit. And the first thing you guys do is make-out? There’s a dead body waiting for us down the hallway, Shiro!”

Keith’s fingers lingered on Shiro’s waist as he pulled back. “Her soul has probably been claimed by now. There were Shrouds on the street.” He cleared his throat and faced Matt. “So, at least there won't be any more ghosts.”

“Lovely.” Matt murmured. He shot Shiro a look before he walked back into the living room.

Keith smiled up at Shiro. “I'll call.” Keith sucked in his bottom lip and turned on his heel toward the balcony doors.

Shrio could only watch as Keith stepped past him and pushed the doors open.  A burst of damp air fluttered the pages strewn about the desk as Keith stepped out. Shiro cast one last look at the figure silhouetted by the hazy sunset before reentering the real world.

  


////////

  


Keith scrubbed his hand across his face and frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked like shit.

Probably because he'd slept like shit. Constantly tossing between dreams of Shiro’s roving hands and earnest eyes and the demon’s endless hunger for degradation and power.

He felt a connection with Shiro. For the first time since he'd met Acxa, he wanted more than a quick fuck.

It was concerning. People close to him tended to get hurt, killed, or worse…

He kept his distance once the danger started. For their protection, of course. Theirs. He had too many enemies. He’d told Acxa every time he left. It’s better for her to stay. Personal relationships were a liability.

He’d seen it first hand.

The image of his father flashed in his mind.

He was wrapping a leather cord around his hair when he caught sight of Lance in the doorway, book in hand.  “What?” It came out snappier than he intended, but Lance didn’t seem to notice.

Instead he dropped the book on Keith’s overcrowded desk. He ignored the pens and papers that fluttered to the floor. “So, after some masterful work on my part, I have come across a way to confirm our friend’s identity.”

Keith stepped over a crate of holy water ampoules and grabbed his last clean shirt out the closet. “Oh yeah?”

“I just need something he touched.”

Keith paused mid-button. “We don’t know who he is, how am I supposed to get you something he touched?”

“I bet your brother could.” Lance picked a piece of lint off of his shoulder. “Or maybe your new friend…”

Keith frowned. “Evidence?”

“Matt told me that he posed the body. Get me something that she was wearing or something that they know he used and I can scry.”

Keith shrugged into his jacket and sighed. “There’s no other way?”

Lance examined his nails. “Not without finding out who the puppet is.”

“Fine.”

“I’d thought you’d be happy to see your new buddy again.”

“He’s not my buddy.”

Lance hummed. “You like em?”

He did. “He’s fine.”

Lance laughed to himself. “I bet. Look, Keith... “ he shifted “I know that you’re not the best with… feelings.”

Keith glared. “Stop.”

“But you don’t bring people here. You don’t don’t give them wards. And you sure as hell don’t banish Krolia for them.”

Embarrassment was etched across his face. “He’s Sighted. He doesn’t know how to deal with it. That’s all. And-And he’s Matt’s partner. I can’t have him getting Matt in danger. Ok? That’s it.” He made for the door. “I’ll get your stupid evidence. You tell me if it’s Sendak.”

“And if it is?”

“Then we banish him.”

“That’s it?”

Keith stared at his boots. “Yeah.”

“Keith-”

“Don’t. Ok? I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Lance said sharply, “But this better not be another Newcastle.”

Keith flinched. “It won’t be.” He left before Lance could reply. He avoided the police tape and made for the staircase.

The brisk fall air stung his cheeks when he made to the street and his mind drifted back to Lance’s words. Newcastle.

Newcastle nearly cost him everything.

It was the last time he’d seen James. Last time he let Acxa come along.

The last time he faced Sendak.

The demon had taken a preacher as a puppet. Created a following exploiting their self-righteous indignation to create the hatred and devotion that he needed to feed.

It had been easy enough for Keith to hunt him down.

He’d been waiting years for this. Studying each case for signs of the demon that had taken his parents from him. Then when an article crossed his feed about a string of missing children in Gateshead were found to have been linked to an obsessive religious sect in Newcastle, he knew he had him.

He was young, barely 19 when he gathered his posse of ameteur mystics and hopped on a plane with a tentative plan and far too much ego.

He didn’t take long for them to find the congregation, to find the puppet preacher, to fail. He let his personal feelings get the best of him and…

Those lives would remain on his conscious for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t afford the connections.

Not anymore.

He dialed Matt’s number.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I want to thank you all so much for reading! And extend my extra special thanks to my Beta CrytipKickFlip!  
> Now this chapter will mark the beginning of the explict content, but not the end.  
> I appreciate each and every comment and kudos. You make my life.

**Chapter 3**

 

Keith hadn’t willingly stepped foot in a police station since he left the Holt’s home seven years ago. That wasn’t to say he had been here on the best of terms then. He hadn’t been. He’d been 17 years old and thought he knew what he what he needed. Thought he had the ability to control himself.

He was wrong.

And he hadn’t been on speaking terms with Sam and Colleen since that night.

“Here,” he pulled himself out of his memories and directed the Uber to the back of the station. He pulled his jacket tight and added $5 to the tip for not talking. No smalltalk. Five stars.

Matt was leaning against a grey and white cinder block  pillar with a smirk. “I could have come and picked you up. Maybe even let you play with the lights. Flip the switches.”

Keith couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “I have no desire to flip any of your switches.”

Matt chuckled loud and warm. It reminded Keith of better times. He nudged his foster brother with his shoulder and followed him inside.

“I bet you’d flip Shiro’s switches.”

“Stop.”

“You’re no fun in your old age.”

“You’re older than me.”

“Yeah, but I’m still the fun one.”

“That’s Pidge.”

Matt feigned shock. “I’m the fun one, she’s the smart one, you’re the goth one.”

“I’m not goth.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Keith rolled his eyes and pulled Matt to a stop. “Look, I’m here on business.”

“Demon business?” Matt arched a brow.

“I need something he touched. Preferably something that would have evoked emotion. Something he used on her. Something he spent time with.” Keith thought back to the body. “He used a curling iron. Can you spare that?”

Matt pulled him into an enclave. “Keith, this isn’t like you’re asking for spare change here, man. This is a fucking serial murder case. I can’t ‘spare’ anything.” He glanced around the corner. “And even if I could, I’m not giving you shit til you tell me what’s really going on?” Matt crossed his arms and looked too much like his mother for Keith to maintain eye contact.  
Instead Keith ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “Matt-”

“Keith.” Colleen reborn.

“You know that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

They stared at each other.

“Have you seen Mom and Dad?”

Keith looked at the wall. “It’s better I don’t.”

“They love you, Keith. They miss you.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Matt worked his jaw. “Fine.”

“Tha-”

“Not the curling iron.”

“But-”

“Or the mirrors.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll leave the room unlocked. It takes 15 seconds for the lock to engage. I’ll talk to the desk guy and-”

Keith felt his skin prickle. A shadow fell over them. “Matt, Iverson’s looking for you.” The voice trailed off.

Shiro.

Their eyes met. Keith looked away. No attachments.

For Shiro’s sake.

“Keith,” his voice breathy, “What-uh-what are you doing here?”

“He needs something the unsub touched,” Matt supplied.  
Shiro furrowed his brows. “You’re asking for evidence?”   
Keith bit the inside of his cheek. He could lie. Deception is easy. It’s part of his game. A couple of gestures and a quick spell and Shiro’d forget Keith was ever here. He could make a break for it.  It’d be so simple. He’d done it before.

Why couldn’t he do it now?

Instead he answered, “I need it to find him.” Shiro tilitted his chin at Matt who gave a nervous laugh. “And you were going to give it to him?”

“No. Maybe. A small piece.” Matt held his thumb and forefinger close. “A really small piece.”

Shiro nodded, expression neutral. “Go see Iverson. I’ll take care of Keith.”

Matt looked back and forth between them, worry painted across his face. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

With one last look at Keith, Matt left.

Shiro grabbed Keith's arm and pulled him into the hall. “Just stay quiet and come with me.”

Keith nearly stumbled over his feet, but recovered. He'd been expecting Shiro to send him packing. Or yell. He looked him up and down. Maybe a lecture on police procedure and ethics.

Anything but him urging him further into the department's corridors.

Shiro finally let go of his arm as they approached a thin, nervous looking man behind a scarred wooden desk. He sat up straight as Shiro approached. Keith lingered five steps behind.

“Detective Shirogane,” the officer squeaked. “Can I help you?”

“I’ll be going inside. I want to go over some items with Mr. Kogane.”

The officer hesitated. He looked at Keith and frowned. “Um… Who um, Who is he?”

Shiro's tone was authoritative when he answered, “Mr. Kogane is a BSC. I'm sure you can imagine why he's here.” Shiro looked back at Keith, winked, and back at the officer.

It was so unexpected that Keith had cough to hide a laugh.

The officer buzzed them through. The door locked behind them.

Keith smiled to himself as he followed Shiro into the maze of metal shelves and cardboard boxes. “You’re full of surprises.”

Shiro flashed a smile over his shoulder. “Sometimes.”

Shiro led him to an overfilled metal shelf near a rear wall. He pulled out a box and began sorting through bags.

Keith trailed his finger along the shelf. “So… What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Shiro chuckled, but continued to sift through the plastic wrapped items. “Seemed like the next logical step.”

Keith feigned interest in a buckling brown and green bank box. “Family?”

The shift in posture gave him away. “We’re not close. I have-had a brother. He died.” Shiro cleared his throat and grabbed a plastic wrapped photo from the box.

“Was he like you?” Keith wanted to go back in time and stop himself from asking.

Shiro stood abruptly. “Twin. If that is what you mean.” His words came out clipped.

The wound was still fresh. Explained a lot. So Keith pushed. “Was he like you? Could he See?”

Shiro had quit pretending to be interested in the photo. He dropped it back into the box.

“Shiro, what happened?”

“We both saw...things. People and-”

“Creatures?”

Shiro stood. “Monsters. We could hear them. See them. Feel them.”

“They could touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” That was heavy magic. Especially for a child. “Something changed, didn’t it?”

Shiro nodded. “Our parents. They just wanted to help.”

“But they made it worse.”

“They were worried about us. I wanted to make them happy. Make the doctors go away.”

“So you lied.” Keith could see the tic working in Shiro’s jaw, feel the tension rolling off of him. He was close to the truth. “What about your brother?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Kuron wouldn’t listen. He knew what we saw was real. He tried…” his voice cracked “Nobody listened.”

“Not even you,” Keith breathed out the words as realization fell over him.

Shiro’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Keith kept going. “What happened?”

“I pretended it was gone until it was. Kuron… He carved those symbols in his arms and got sent to Farmington.”

The asylum. “Where he died.”

“Suicide. Two weeks ago.”

“And now-”

“Now I have to live with both of our burdens.”

“Because you betrayed him.” Fuck.  He met Shiro’s eyes. The hurt was palpable. “I’m sorry…”

Shiro didn’t answer. His face didn’t change.

“Shiro, I’m sorry,” he repeated louder. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not-I’m not good at talking. To people.” He flexed his hands nervously.

“You’re right though,” Shiro took a shuddering breath. They locked eyes. “It’s my fault he’s dead. More than anyone else, I knew. I knew.” He paused. “I could have prevented all of it. But I was a coward. I was afraid.”

Keith watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “You were a kid.” He stepped closer. “Of course you were scared.” The pull was undeniable.

“No.” Shiro’s voice was rough, shaping the words with ragged edges. “Even after Tehran, I started… It started. I don’t-” Shiro grappled for words and rubbed his prosthetic with his hand.

Keith was close enough to touch him now. He didn’t.

“I was dead for 3 minutes. I remember it, Keith. Fog and coldness. The Grey Man.” He shuddered.

The Wraith. Purgatory. Keith clasped Shiro’s hand in his own. “He’s a creepy fucker,” he laughed lamely.

Shiro continued. “When I woke up, I knew that it was back. I _knew_. It felt like putting on glasses after being near sighted your entire life. But… I was horrified.”

“You tried to suppress it again.”

Shiro nodded. “It worked the first time.”

Keith left his hand drift up to Shiro’s face. He brushed his thumb along his jaw. Shiro leaned into the touch, eyes closed, breathing soft. Supple skin and stubble competed for dominance on Keith’s fingertips. He bit his lip at the sensation.

This was dangerous.

Shiro opened his eyes slowly and pinned Keith with a pained look. “I’m weak, Keith.”

“No, not weak.” But Keith was. He gently pulled Shiro closer.

Shiro’s hand pressed into the small of his back. “I want you to wake me up, Keith.” He leaned in hovering over Keith’s mouth. “We can help each other.”

Touching Shiro felt like completing a circuit. His body buzzed. God. This was dangerous. So fucking dangerous. But Keith was too lost in hazy grey eyes and electric touches to hear his alarm bells ringing. “Ok,” he breathed.

“Ok?”

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure who closed the gap. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Shiro’s lips on his; his tongue searching out every corner of Keith’s mouth. “Shiro…”

He answered by sliding his hands under Keith’s thighs and lifting him up. Keith wrapped his legs around the larger man and let him spin them around. He barely registered Shiro pressing his back against the concrete wall. All Keith knew was that he had leverage. He canted his hips pressing his rapidly hardening cock against Shiro’s abdomen. “God,” he groaned. “You don't know what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” Shiro panted out between kisses. He gripped Keith’s ass and pulled him flush against his thigh. He laved at Keith’s neck with his tongue as he undid Keith's belt. He scraped Keith's collarbone with his teeth, fingers gliding along the hem of his pants. “Wanna touch you.”

“Yes.”

Shiro made short work of his fly and Keith could have sworn he let out a growl when he pulled Keith free. “God, Shiro!”

Shiro grinned against his throat as he ran a thumb across Keith's tip. “Been thinking about this.” He pulled off Keith's neck. “Ever since I saw you.” He kissed Keith hard and pulled back releasing his grip on Keith's cock.

“Shiro,” he whined.

Shiro pressed in closer making eye contact. He licked slowly across his palm. He gripped Keith at the base and stroked at a firm steady pace. “Such a pretty cock, baby. You're so pretty.”

Keith could only hold on as Shiro stroked him precum beading on his head. Shiro quickly added the moisture to his glide making Keith keen at the contact. “Mmm, kiss me, Shiro!”

He obliged crashing their mouths together as he kept pace. Keith sucked Shiro's tongue into his mouth as heat pooled and pressure built. He was close.

He pressed his head against Shiro's neck. “Close. Nnnn- Shit…” He bit down on Shiro's neck.

Shiro hissed and continued work his length. “Cum for me, Keith.”

“ShShiro!” The name was ripped out of his throat. His cock pulsed his Shiro's hand as he worked him through it. All the while murmuring praise and pressing kisses to Keith's neck. He lost track of how long they stayed that way.

“Damn,” Keith panted. He let his head fall back against the wall. He felt boneless. Sated. And when Shiro pressed a tender kiss to his swollen lips, Keith felt warmth.

And he heard footsteps.

  


//////

  


The sharp staccato of dress shoes on concrete cut through Shiro’s lust hazed mind. He pulled Keith off the wall, eliciting a yelp from the man. He shifted his body and set Keith on the floor behind him, effectively shielding him from any intrusion. Although there was no chance of concealing his arousal or the cum splattered across his black dress shirt like a back alley Jackson Pollack.

He didn’t have time to reflect on it. Or his lack of self control.

Lieutenant Iverson rounded the corner. Anger apparent in his expression. “Shirogane,” he barked. “What is this I hear about a BSC?”

Shiro’s mind reeled grappling for an appropriate lie while the lieutenant’s eyes swept up and down his body. “Well, you see-”  
Keith sprang out from his left mumbling something incoherent and moving his hands. Iverson froze in place. Hand raised, mouth open, eyes wide. Shiro blinked and watched as Keith went into the evidence box, grabbing out a photo. “Come on, Shiro.” He raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue never missing a beat as he began toward the front.

Shiro trotted to catch up, looking back every few steps until he reached the door. Keith slipped past him and dropped a gold pendant in front of the officer at the desk. “Hey buddy, you never saw me today, did you?”

The officer shook his head, eyes transfixed on the gleaming metal.. “...no…”

“K-Keith!” Shiro began, but Keith smiled and hit him with a mischievous grin; the words fell away.

Keith tucked the pendant back in his jacket. “Oh and uh, make sure you clean up in there. Wear gloves.” Keith swiped the pen out of the officer’s hand and turned to Shiro. “Better hurry.” And he was off down the corridors.

Shiro glanced over at the officer. Who blinked up at him. “Oh hi, Detective. Can I do something for you?”

Shiro took off after Keith, almost running by the time he rounded the last corner. He caught sight of worn leather and black hair as the back door closed. “Keith!” He burst out the door knocking the metal against the cement bricks with a dull crack. His eyes searched out Keith leaning against at two toned pillar cigarette in hand and a satisfied smile on his face. “Keith…” the name was a breath of relief.

Indigo eyes shone with amusement. “Hey, Old Timer. Bout time you caught up.” He pushed off the pillar with his boot. “You ready to leave?”  
Keith stepped closer; so did Shiro. He felt like the tide pulled to the full moon, “What happened in there? What did you do to them?”   
Keith shrugged and snaked a hand around Shiro’s waist. “Nothing permanent. I usually don’t resort to magic, but these were” he pressed closer to Shiro and flicked his cigarette away “extenuating circumstances.” He blew smoke out and flitted his eyes up to Shiro meeting his stare through a curtain of lashes. Shiro’s breath hitched. “Besides, you can’t really wear that shirt now. Can you?” Keith toyed with hem of his shirt.

Shiro’s brain attempted to process what Keith was saying when the door swung open. He forced himself to look up. Matt clapped his hands together and grinned a little too large. “So you got the goods? Does this mean that we get to go see my favorite Forgiven?”

Shiro didn’t miss the way that Keith hesitated before letting go of his waist. “No.”

Matt’s face fell.

“At least not yet,” Keith continued. He tugged on his jacket adjusting the leather over his shoulders. “Lance needs to do some scrying first. But… I need to get into an gallery debut tonight. And I was hoping-” he glanced at Shiro “to borrow your partner for the occasion.”

Matt scowled. “You want to go to a gallery debut? Why exactly?”

Keith shifted. “It’s related.”

Matt crossed his arms. “How? This isn’t about Acxa, is it?”

Keith flinched at the name. “I think it’s all connected.”

“Why are you here, Keith?” Matt’s tone was harsher than Shiro’d ever heard it. Emotions tinted the words, “You didn’t come here for the murders. Or me. Or Pidge.”

Keith looked away. “No.”

Matt took a step closer. “Why are you here, Keith?”

Hurt. Matt was hurt. Shiro stepped closer to Keith and put a hand on his shoulder. Keith looked up at him. Confusion evident.

Shiro kept his voice soft. “Keith, why did you come back?”

He swallowed hard. “James.”

“James?” Matt sounded surprised. “James Griffin?”

Keith nodded and looked back at his brother. “He’s dead, Matt.”

“What?”

“He sent a message, but I was too late.”

Shiro squeezed his shoulder. Keith seemed to relax under his touch.

“What happened?” Matt asked.

“He went dark after Newcastle. I don’t know what he got himself into. But he sent a package to Acxa.”

“But she’s…”

“I know. He didn’t know I wasn’t there. He just thought I’d clean up his mess.”

“Fuck, man.” Matt scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Keith shook his head, “I hadn’t spoken to him in years. But the package arrived around the time the murders started. And Lotor got whatever was in it. Courtesy of the new tenant.”

“You don’t think...” Matt let thought hang.  
“I don’t know what to think until I find out what was in it.” Keith put his hand over Shiro’s and gave him a weak smile. “And to do that, I gotta go see the man himself.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shiro volunteered. Keith leaned closer.

“Good. Have a suit?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I don’t.”

Matt snorted. “Of course you don’t. Let me guess, I’m supposed to loan you mine?”

Keith perked up. “That’s really nice of you, Matt. I hadn’t even thought of it.”

  


///////

 

The thing about dealing with the preternatural, supernatural, spiritual, and otherwise metaphysical, was this: it was unpredictable. And having a “plan” generally just got in Keith’s way.  

So it was on this night, as he finished pulling his hair into a sleek bun and Detective Takashi Shirogane entered the room, that Keith was eternally grateful for his lack of plans. Because he couldn’t think of a single one that didn’t involve pushing the officer into Matt’s bed and riding him all night.

Which was an absolute no-go.

No attachments, no pain.

And Keith knew himself well enough to know he was toeing a dangerous line with the man already. He had to set his resolve.

Shiro smiled at him, soft with something more in his eyes. Something molten and liquid and-

Keith pulled his eyes away and scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He focused on his stubborn bangs that insisted upon falling back down into face no matter what concoction Matt told him to try.

He was so intent on ignoring Shiro that he failed to notice the other’s approach until large, tender hands wrapped themselves around his hips. He met Shiro’s gaze in the mirror and felt weak with hunger he saw there. His brain told his body to move out of the grasp, but he was transfixed on watching Shiro’s hands move up his sides under his jacket. He found himself arching into the other’s body eyes still locked on each other in mirror. Shiro nuzzled the crook of Keith’s neck dropping languid kisses and murmuring praises of Keith’s beauty. His teeth grazed Keith’s jugular and Keith let out a gasp. Shiro smiled at his reflection and pulled Keith flush against his chest.

“Yo!” Matt called from the living room, “Uber’s here!”

Keith startled. He flinched away from Shiro like he’d been burned.

Maybe he had. Standing too close to fire and all.

He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Better get going.” His voice sounded shaky to his own ears, but he pressed on. “Don’t want to keep out gracious host waiting. It’s bad manners.”

Shiro recovered and smirked at Keith. “I’d hate to be rude.” He closed the distance between them in two strides. He pulled Keith against him and enveloped him in a searing kiss that lasted mere seconds. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

It took Keith far too long to make his way down stairs into the waiting car. They rode in relative silence until they reached Samuel Kennedy park and exited. They decided the walk the block to  the Pulitzer Arts Galleria where Lotor Daibazaal, heir to Daibazaal Pharmatech and patron of the arts would be premiering the works of… A Swedish guy, maybe? Sven Somethingoranother possibly?

Keith couldn’t remember. And as they entered the darkened atrium lit, he didn’t care. The atrium was long and narrow and the only lights came from the windows looking over the reflecting pool. Shiro’s broad form reflected in the shimmering blues and whites caused Keith to lose track of his thoughts. Shiro slipped his fingers into his and spoke, but the words were lost on Keith. Acting purely on instinct, he pulled Shiro closer and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. The contact woke him and he slowly stepped back watching confused pleasure play across Shiro’s face. “We need to find Lotor. I need to talk to him.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Shiro’s answered in a deep whisper. He pushed Keith’s bangs out of his eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”

Keith had a feeling he didn’t mean the mission. Fuck.

Keith inhaled and forced himself to step back. This was business.

Business.

“He knows who I am. He’ll recognize me. I need to talk to him alone.  You are my back up. So, just stay back unless you see me in distress.” he started forward.

“Are you sure?”

Keith laughed. “Never. But this is the best I’ve got.”

Shiro looked like he wanted to say more, but he just nodded.

They entered a large white room with dark grey polished concrete floors. The who’s who of the modern art scene milling about with self-important heirs and humorless laughs. He hadn’t missed this.

How many of these had Acxa cajoled him into? Always the “next rising star” until they were eclipsed by the next. Until it was her star that caught Lotor’s eye.

He shook off the thought and scanned the room for Lotor’s familiar figure. Tall, dark, handsome, with shock white hair, and a god complex. It didn’t take him long.

He took off toward him. A hand on his shoulder still him before he took two steps. He looked back at Shiro. Shiro’s handsome features were drawn into a mask of concern. “Keith… Something’s wrong. I-I feel something. Lotor’s-He’s…”

Keith put his hand on Shiro’s. “He’s a wanna-be wizard. He’s not a threat.” He gave Shiro his best smile. “I’m going to get him to the courtyard and then we’ll go.”

“Keith, I-”

“You’re my back-up, Shiro. If something goes wrong, I’ll call for you. Follow, but stay back. Got it?”

Shiro nodded. Keith squeezed his hand and stepped away.

Lotor had had his eyes locked on Keith since his arrival, so it was no surprise when he broke away from his guests and greeted him. “Keith. I didn’t expect to see you.” He nodded toward the side doors. “Perhaps you would prefer to speak in a less crowded setting.”

Keith didn’t reply, but followed the other man’s lead toward the courtyard. The air was crisp and only a smattering of attendees were outside. The walked in silence until they achieved a semblance of privacy by a hedge. Lotor arched an elegant brow at Keith. “To do I owe the pleasure?”

He hesitated. Lotor looked immaculate as always, perfection made for public consumption. But Keith noticed the draw of features, the dimness of his eyes, the wedding band he still wore. This isn’t what he expected. Indifference, anger, being ignored, Keith could handle all of those. But this… This seemed to be genuine grief. And Keith wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“I’m sure you aren’t here to offer Sven your congratulations or to purchase a piece.” Lotor paused, considering. “And I’m sure you aren’t here to offer _me_ any condolences. So, pray tell, Keith, what is your business with me?”

“A package,” Keith blurted out.

“A package?”

Keith schooled his face into an impassive mask. “A package was delivered to Acxa’s apartment from England. It was for me.”

Lotor balked. “You’re serious?” He let out a bark of laughter. “You have gone through all of this trouble to track down this package from England, to the new tenant, to find me on my first premier since my wife’s death for a copper fucking canister?” Lotor shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh. “You really are piece of work, Kogane. A cheap Riyadh marketplace bauble… ”

“Where is it?”

“I gave it to my father. He collects middle eastern decor.”

“What was in it?”

“What?”

“What was in the canister, Lotor?”

“Nothing,” he scoffed. Keith could feel the frustration rolling off of him. He didn’t have much time.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, Exorcist.” Time was up. Lotor’s patience was gone. “Now, if you are quite done, I have work to do.” He pushed past Keith.

“Lotor.”

The other huffed and turned toward him. “What?”

“I am though. Sorry, that is. I’m sorry about Acxa.”

Lotor didn’t move. His thumb spun the ring on his finger absently. “Yes, I imagine that if anyone is, it’s you.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“And it is only in respect of her fondness of you that I have tolerated you here tonight. Now please, leave.” He turned on his heel and disappeared inside.

Keith exhaled and pushed his bangs back. He felt the familiar prickle of manifestation behind him. “Hi, Mom.”

Krolia moved to his side. “You banished me.” Her voice was neutral.

“I needed some alone time.”

“I see. You could have just asked, Keith. I thought you were angry.”

“I’m not angry, Mom.”

“I am worried about you though.”

He smiled up at her. “Why now?”

Without a word she smiled and looked toward the galleria, just as Shiro stepped into view.

“Are you ok, Keith?” He looked over at Krolia and stopped mid-step.

“I’m fine. But I’ve overstayed my welcome. Again.”

Shiro grinned. “Pity.”

Keith hummed. “I know. But we have a new lead. Let’s check-in with Lance.” He began toward the gate phone in hand. He glanced back at Shiro. “And then we can get you to bed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!  
> Thanks to my AMAZING Beta [CryptidKickFlip](https://twitter.com/cryptidkickflip) , here is a chapter done early!  
> So TYSM!!!  
> Also, hey we're going to get into a bit of sexually explicit material AND some.graphic descriptions of death.   
> I tried to keep it reasonable.  
> Anyways, if you have any questions, please feel free to find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kittykittymoon) or ask in the comments below.  
> As always thank you so so much for reading and leaving Kudos and comments.   
> You are the best!

Keith could feel the hum of energy as he approached his door. A warm familiar buzz that meant Lance was working. He pushed the door open and found Lance in his usual spot on the living room floor, ÌFÉ filling the air with steady beats and electronic pulses and the musky scent of mandrake burning. The man himself sitting in the center of the room with his eyes closed holding out a blue glass pendulum from a tarnished brass chain over a carved bowl of water. The glass hovered just above the water forming patterns on its own in manner that defied physics. But Keith figured, fuck physics, magic has its own laws.

He moved quietly motioning for Shiro to do the same. He didn’t want to startle Lance. It could be dangerous to pull him out of trance too suddenly. 

A lesson he’d seen play out before his eyes just a few years ago. If he let himself, he could still smell the rot of wood mingling with old death. Hear the creak and groan of the RV as they let themselves inside. See the yellowed corpse slick with adipocere still leaned over his bowl, chain in hand.

Keith shook the memories away and shrugged out of jacket as quietly as possible. He quickly rolled his sleeves up and began his invocation. He deftly moved his hands, shifting realities as he drew the runes. He reached out to Shiro as the portal opened and pulled him in with him. 

On the other side of the darkness, Keith kept Shiro’s hand firmly in his guiding him to some semblance of standing in the astral plane. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he watched Shiro’s wide eyed reaction to his surroundings. 

Not that Keith had been any different during his first walk, but he had been a child. A laugh slipped out of his throat before he could stop it, earning a glare from a wobbly Shiro. 

“Here,” he laughed and pulled Shiro closer steadying the larger man with both hands on his waist. “Relax. It’s like swimming, but with breathing and there’s no water.”

Shiro glared again. And Keith laughed. “Seriously, Shiro. Relax.”

“Where are we?”   
“Astral plane. Like it?” 

Shiro chanced a look around the abysma. The world looked like had been dipped in liquid smoke. Everything was there, but hazy and intangible. Intermittent sparks of blue and yellow lights move around them like leaves in the windstream. Shiro’s eyes lit up and Keith’s chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey!” 

Keith’s head snapped around and found Lance scowling from a few meters away. His hands still in motion, sorting through globes floating in the rift. 

“What are you doing in here? And with a guest?” Lance gave an over dramatic sigh. “Does he even know how to project? Lor juro por Dios, Keith.”

Keith ignored the rant and made his way over to the rift. The small tear in the plane seemed to pulse in blacks and blues. The softly glowing globes swirling in miasma gravitated toward Lance. He would wave through them sending them on and off to… well, Keith wasn’t sure. This wasn’t exactly his specialty. Lance knew. Lance would talk about it for hours and fucking hours. The passage of spirits and energies and all the regalas de Santeria that Keith couldn’t properly appreciate with his Hellfire. 

Or at least, that’s what Lance said. 

Keith didn’t care if he understood as long as it got him answers. “Any luck?”

Lance arched his eyebrow at Keith. “I literally just started. But I can tell you that this is  _ definitely _ a Second Hierarchy demon.”

“Second Hierarchy?” Shiro asked.

Lance cut Keith a look, but explained. “Yeah. Look, there are three hierarchies in Hell and they all answer to ol Lucifer himself. They just have different specialities and have different bosses.”

“Kinda like being in a shitty office job,” Keith offered, “And you have eight different bosses, but they answer to six bosses who answer to four bosses and so on.. You get the idea.”

Shiro look unconvinced. “So, you’re telling me that Hell is like a corporation?”

Lance clicked his tongue and winked. “You got it, big guy.”   __

“What do you think they based the infrastructure off of?” Keith nudged Shiro and smiled up at him. 

“So, I’m guessing this isn’t a satanic accountant, then?” Shiro deadpanned at Lance.

Lance quirked a smile at Keith. “I like him.”

Keith rolled his eyes. 

“And no, Officer, he isn’t. Although, they exist. And actually-”

“Lance,” Keith cut him off. 

“Right, right, I’ll be sure soon, but Keith…” He looked at Shiro and then back at Keith. “I think it’s him. It feels the same.”

Keith’s stomach twisted. “Tell me when you’re sure. Then we’ll contact Allura.”

Lance eyes widened. “You’re asking for help?”

“Not help, just… making her aware and maybe getting some advice. That’s it.” Keith paused. “And I’ll be waking Shiro. I want to make sure they keep him in the Light.” Lance opened his mouth to speak but Keith called the portal. “Tell me when you have confirmation.” He nodded at Shiro and held out his hand. Once Shiro folded his fingers over his, they stepped through the veil and back into the living room. 

Keith pulled Shiro into bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could and leaned against it. He could feel Shiro watching him. He knew he had questions. But Shiro didn’t push. 

Keith stood straight and chanced a look at the other. He watched Keith with open curiosity and that intangible something else that Keith couldn’t quite place. 

What it was… Keith was afraid to know. But he was hopelessly exhilarated by it. 

Attracted.

He stepped closer. Shiro reached out and took his arm. The slightest pull and Keith drifted into him. 

Keith watched Shiro examining his marks. He suppressed a shiver at the sensation of calloused fingers ghosting across his skin. 

“You never told me what these were.” There was no accusation in Shiro’s words. Just expectation. 

“Sometimes protection,” Keith breathed, while tracing over Angelic script.  “Sometimes,” he presented his other arm “to call upon something.” He poked the sigil for Valac. “And this,” he smiled, lifting his elbow, “helps me cheat at cards.”

Shiro stilled, then laughed. The warm sound of it vibrated through Keith and he wondered when they had gotten so close.  

Being around Shiro felt like standing on a precipice. They were both holding the breaths and toeing the edge. 

There were so many reasons not to jump. But standing so close to Shiro, Keith’s brain went hazy. And he couldn’t remember a single one.

He’d had lovers. Sure.

But had any of them mattered? 

Acxa had, but that that was different. It had been fun and exploratory. It had been the next logical step in their relationship. Just what was supposed to be. Performative. Comfortable.

Not like this. God, no. He needed the connection. Been craving it since… Since forever. A connection that defied explanation. 

Keith surged upwards. Their lips crashed hard, almost painfully together. Shiro moaned into his mouth, sending blood surging downward. Shiro pulled Keith flush and Keith rolled his hips against Shiro, pressing his half mast erection against Shiro's own. Electricity sparked through him and he  hummed in pleasure. He pushed the suit jacket off his broad shoulders and began unbuttoning Shiro's shirt.

Shiro let out a throaty chuckle into Keith's mouth, “Anxious?”

Keith nipped his jaw in response and earned another laugh. Shiro let Keith drop the shirt to the floor, but hesitated at the undershirt. Keith licked into his plush lips and tugged the shirt off while gasping for breath. He met Shiro’s eyes, shadows played across those silvery orbs. “Hey,” Keith whispered he dropped kisses along Shiro’s jaw. 

Shiro didn’t need to speak, Keith knew. His hands roved over the scars criss crossing Shiro’s back, marking constellations across his torso. He was nervous. His skin brought back memories of averted gazes and empty sympathies. Reminders that had been broken. He felt less somehow. 

He wasn’t sure where this was coming from, Keith had never been an empath. Many would argue the opposite. But Keith’s chest ached at the thought of anyone making this man feel like less than extraordinary. “Shiro,” he breathed as pressed a lingering kiss on his lips. He cupped the man’s face and pressed their foreheads together. “You're so fucking beautiful…” 

He began to trace his fingers over Shiro's abdomen. He pulled Shiro closer and replaced the fingers with his lips, moving down the other’s body until he was on his knees. Keith's violet eyes caught Shiro's and the gaze held as he unbuckled his belt. Nimble fingers made quick work of the rest. 

Keith cupped Shiro through his boxer briefs and bit his lip in anticipation. Shiro groaned when Keith replaced his hand with his mouth, tonguing the sizable bulge through the fabric.

“Keith…”

“Now who’s anxious?” He smiled up at Shiro with every intention of teasing, but stopped short at the sight of Shiro flushed and needy above him. 

Shiro pushed Keith’s bangs back and tugged him up, back in his arms and into a molten kiss. Keith was reeling when Shiro pulled back. 

“Your turn, beautiful,” Shiro smiled and pulled at the buttons on Keith’s borrowed finery. 

Keith laughed when Shiro broke a button off of Keith’s shirt. “Fuck it,” he muttered and ripped the rest off in a single movement. 

“Holy shit, Shiro,” Keith pulled him back into another kiss, letting the momentum drop them onto the bed. 

Shiro was more restrained with the rest of the tuxedo, but barely. 

And Keith loved it. 

Nobody had ever been this desperate for him, nor he for them. He whined when Shiro moved down his body and nipped his hip bone.  He was careful to merely graze his cock in passing as he explored. Soft brushes of lips and playful gentle tugs had Keith wiggling impatiently.

Keith's breath caught sharply as Shiro’s bit down on his inner thigh. “Please,” he panted, “Shiro… Fuck.”

Shiro smiled in satisfaction .He slowly worked back to Keith's face and licked his way into a rough kiss. Keith clung to him and pressed against him. He mewled and rolled his hips breathing pleas as Shiro rubbed a thumb over his leaking tip.

“We need-”

“Fuck. Right. Um…” Keith arched and reached for the overfilled nightstand. He tugged the drawer out, causing an avalanche of books onto the floor. 

Shiro laughed softly above him and sucked on his collar bone. 

Keith frantically felt around the drawer finding an empty lighter, black salt, and an ankh before finally locating the lube. “Got it, Sh-hhhhnnnggg”

Shiro slid his tongue into Keith’s mouth and the lube out his hand. He sat up smiled down at Keith tenderly. He reach down and undid what was left of Keith’s bun. “I wanna watch you come apart.” He popped the lid. “I’m going to open you up and then I want you to ride me. I don’t want to miss a second of you on my cock.” He grabbed Keith’s hips and pulled him closer. “Sound good?”  

Keith could only nod. 

Shiro pulled Keith’s leg over his shoulder and dropped lingering kisses on his thigh. He pressed his prosthetic on Keith’s abdomen after coating the other hand. Shiro slowly rubbed the outside of Keith’s rim with one finger until the other relaxed. He breached the ring gently, watching for any signs of discomfort. Keith didn’t blame him. He was tight. It had been… a while. And nothing like this. Nothing kind. Just searching out comfort in another body. Asking questions and never getting any answers.

The thoughts fluttered away when Shiro pressed a second digit inside and ripped a curse from Keith. “You’re doing so well, baby. Opening up so nice for me.”

Soon the gentle rhythm became something steady sweeping against that sweet spot in between scissoring fingers and loosening muscle. 

Soon a third finger had Keith keening and aching for more. “Shiro, I’m ready, I’m ready, I nnmmmhhh I want-” Keith gasped and arched into Shiro. “Yes…Oh God… Shiro! I want-I want….”

“Tell me what you want, Keith,” Shiro breathed and pumped his fingers harder pounding his prostate with purpose. 

Keith’s eyes rolled back and he let out wet sobs of pleasure. Shiro kept a steady rhythm.

“You,” Keith panted and pushed his hips against Shiro's hand. “I want you, Takashi,” he gritted though his teeth.

“Ok,” Shiro breathed. He slid his fingers free and Keith let out a sad moan. He moved over Keith and kissed him. Hard. Teeth grinding and tongues tangled.

Keith let out a yelp when Shiro flipped their positions. Shiro smiled and grabbed the lube again and worked it onto himself. Keith gave him one more lingering kiss before moving back and lining himself up. Shiro held Keith’s narrow hips steady as he slid inside. A cry of pleasure escaped from them both as Keith worked his way down. Shiro watched him with hooded eyes, biting his bottom lip. Keith felt his heart stutter. 

Keith let out a strangled cry when he finally bottomed out followed by a breathless, “Takashi…” His head spun with pleasure as his body adjusted and he was soon moving, bouncing slowly at first, but quickly setting a hard pace, hitting his prostate with each bounce. Shiro reached between them and began to stroke Keith in rhythm with his thrusts. He locked eyes with Shiro and eagerly matched each stroke with a harder thrust, fucking himself with abandon until he was incoherent. 

He was dangerously close. “I’m gonna-Fuck, Shiro, Takashi! I-”

Shiro’s grasp on his hips tightened and he was held in place as Shiro thrust upward at a punishing pace. “God, yes, Keith…Cum, baby, Fuck. Cum for me, pretty baby…”

A strangled scream poured out of Keith as his orgasm tore through him. He collapsed onto Shiro’s chest.

Keith licked out at Shiro’s lips catching them and luring Shiro into a sloppy kiss while he chased his own please. 

Shiro gritted his teeth and pressed his forehead against Keith’s. He growled Keith's name and Keith felt the pulsating of his cock buried deep inside of him.

Shiro buried his face in his neck and joined him in the afterglow. 

Keith nuzzled against Shiro and inhaled the scent into earth and citrus that lingered on his skin. Shiro panted hard and left open mouthed kissed across Keith’s neck. He pulled out as gently as he could, but Keith still ached at the sudden emptyness. He shifted to the side and wound his long legs and steely arms around Shiro. Shiro buried his fingers in his hair, holding him in place against him. He kissed Keith’s forehead as his breathing slowed. 

“Fuck…” Keith murmured against Shiro's skin.

Shiro hummed and shifted closer. And it felt  _ right. _

And it felt frightening. 

“Are you ok?” Shiro’s voice was low and tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” Keith lied. “I’m fine.” He resituated on Shiro’s chest listening to the steady pulse. But it did little to calm his own. 

“Where did your mother disappear to by the way?”

Keith arched a brow at him.

“N-not that I want her here right now, but she was at the gallery and…” A crimson flush crept across his face. “I’m sorry.”

Keith let out a quiet laugh. “You’re fine. She’s, uh, well,” he folded his arms and propped his head up “She’s somewhere. She doesn’t stay with all the time. She comes and goes. She does whatever she wants.”

Shiro hummed. “Must be genetic.”

Keith rolled his eyes and flicked Shiro’s nipple. “Luckily for you.”

The laughter died down. Shiro took to stroking his fingers along Keith’s shoulder. “How long?”

“Hhmm?”   
“Your mom.”

“Oh.” Keith cleared his throat. He hadn’t planned on talking about this. Not now anyway. But Shiro had been patient. Accepting. Trusting. “I guess it’s been 16, almost 17 years.”

Shiro didn’t respond. He steadily stroked Keith’s skin. Waiting.

And Keith found himself talking. Words tumbling out of his mouth and filling the voids in the shadows lingering in corners of his storage shed of a room. “Mom is, er, was like me. But better.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Keith scoffed. “Believe it. Mom has control and determination and she’s smart and always has a plan. She seemed...impossible. Still does sometimes.” He chewed his bottom lip and let the silence linger for moment. “My dad killed her.”

“What?” Shiro’s hand paused.

Keith shrugged. “I know you want to know. I’d want to know.” Shiro was watching him, but he couldn’t look. He let him continue his soothing ministrations before he continued. “Mom was a born Magician. Long line of Seers and Seekers and Healers all that. She had a natural talent. Dad didn’t. I mean, not really. He was a self-taught Exorcist in a family of Hellblazers. He didn’t let it stop him. He did the work. He was driven to be the best. He got pretty good too. 

Then he met Mom and the were a team. He did the research and the grinding and she did the elemental, magical stuff and I guess it worked. For a while.”

Keith shifted to his side facing away from Shiro, but staying on his chest. “He was always looking for ways to get more power. He became obsessed. Withdrawn. He had this little shack, he called it his ‘study’ and he would just disappear there for days. And then weeks. Mom got worried and went out there. Left me with a sitter.” Keith squeezed his eyes closed trying to force himself to stay disconnected, but the images appeared in his mind’s eye. His mother’s body in the casket. He wasn’t supposed to see. Closed caskets were meant to stay closed. 

He sat up and Shiro followed. Hands hovering over Keith’s back momentarily before giving in and pulling him in. “Keith…” Shiro’s voice was like aloe on burn, but Keith pushed the comfort away. “You don’t ha-”

But Keith couldn’t stop the flow. Those tumbling words leaving cracks where they fell. “Dad had gone Dark. He bound himself to a demon named Sendak. He fed him with his obsession and Dad could use some of his power. But he couldn’t handle it. He was consumed. He-he’d created an invunche; used it to do his dirty work and guard the shack.  And he wasn’t there to call it off when Mom- It killed Mom.”

Shiro held steady. “Keith, I’m-”

“He tore her to pieces. That’s what they do. When Dad came back and saw her and…” Something wet dropped onto his leg. Tears. 

Jesus.

When was the last time he’d cried? 

Shiro’s hold never loosened, he gave up trying to speak. He held Keith with cheek pressed against his back. 

Keith wanted to stop the flow. He wanted to sink into that embrace and let Takashi Shirogane in all of his grace give him comfort. 

But he couldn’t. 

“He poured gasoline over the house,” he sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, “Then on himself. Sat down. Lit a cigarette…”

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Shiro whisper to himself, felt lips brush across this naked skin. 

“That’s how I ended up with Matt and Pidge. They were my last foster family.” Keith felt ragged and drained. On edge. 

No connections. 

Connections killed. 

But, God… He wanted this one. 

“Keith, I’m-”

But he didn’t want Shiro to die. “You’re sorry?” He pulled himself out of Shiro’s arms and grabbed his underwear off the floor. “I don’t need pity, Shiro,” he snapped as he pulled them on.

“I don’t pity you, Keith.” Shiro sounded as confused as Keith felt. “I just wanted to-”

“Well, don’t,” he wiped at the tears and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the dresser.  “I let you fuck me and you know me?” Tears threatened to spill back over now. He gripped tighter to his anger. “You don’t know shit.” Keith slung open the door to balcony “Losing one person doesn’t make you an expert on loss.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but the stream was finally dried. He leaned on the railing glowering down on the street below. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands and inhaled the acrid smoke. 

He felt Shiro approach from behind, no noise just the warmth radiating off of him. Keith didn’t turn around. Couldn’t turn around. 

“You’re right, I’m not an expert on loss,” Shiro’s voice was calm, clipped. “But I know you’re hurting. And I know that I want to be there. But not if you don’t want me.”

He did though. So much.

He let another tear spill over and stayed still. 

Shiro moved closer, heat radiated off his body. Keith suppressed a shiver as Shiro reached around him and plucked the cigarette from his fingers. Shiro pressed the butt to his own lips taking a deep drag before flicking it over the edge. He looked out over the street and spoke, “And just so you know…” He turned to Keith with a heated gaze, “You aren’t just a fuck to me. Not even close.”

And with that, he turned and walked away leaving Keith frozen as he gathered his clothes and walked out the door.

Keith turned back to the doorway and braced himself on the frame. 

No connections. That was the lie he’d sold himself. 

It was the biggest lie he’d ever told. 

Krolia appeared next to him. He glanced over. She gave a sad smile. She was still beautiful. Forever 29. In that simple slip dress and a messy bob cut. Still the woman that held him in her lap and told him stories of magic and angels and hope… And love. 

She crossed her arms and leaned on the railing. “How long, Keith?”

“What?” his voice a hoarse whisper.

She looked away from him and out over the city. “How long are you going to use me as an excuse to be alone?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Keith grit his teeth and stalked into the bedroom. He grabbed his pants off the metal lock box they were caught on and slid them on before collapsing back on the bed. He covered his face with his hands and tried to sort through his emotions.

The bedroom room opened. He didn’t bother to look. 

He knew it wasn’t Shiro.

“Keith,” Lance sounded tired.”You, uh, ok?”

“Terrific, man.” His voice was muffled by his hands. 

“You don’t look ok.”

“I thought you were scrying.” 

Lance scoffed. “Yeah, well, good thing I was done before you got loud.”

Keith slapped his hands down on the mattress, but kept staring at the ceiling. “What is it, Lance?”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

Keith sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You gotta start talking to someone. Maybe Shiro.”

Keith glared at Lance who was casually leaned in the doorway. “Are you going to tell me what you know or what?”

Lance cleared his throat and stood straight. He looked Keith in the eye. “It’s him. It’s Sendak.”

His stomach sank. 

“But you already figured that,” Lance continued. “That’s why you’re doing this to him.”

“Doing what? To who?”

“Pushing Shiro away.”

Keith sat up. “What?”

Lance rolled his eyes and shifted back to the door. “You think you’re doing him a favor?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to let him fall for you, wake him, and what? Leave? Take off for the next adventure?”

Keith’s anger surged. “Fuck you, Lance. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stood up and almost tripped over a case of brimstone. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t. I don’t know what it’s like to push everyone away. Eres un maldito cobarde.”

“Stop.” 

“I’d give anything for Katie to look at me like Shiro looks at you. And you’re gonna fuck him up walk away. Pawn him off on Kolivan? Allura? Or see if Matt wants your leftovers?”

Keith’s body moved before his brain caught up. He caught himself and redirected to the wall. His fist smashed through the drywall tearing skin and bruising knuckles. 

Lance looked unimpressed. “That’s what I thought.”

“W-What?” Keith panted. Confusion cut through his anger. 

“Ya know, for someone who knows so much, you really are stupid.”

Keith pulled his hand to his chest. It throbbed to the beat of his heart. 

Lance put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “Keith, my man. You’ve got it bad. And so does he. So do both of yourselves a favor and quit the martyr shit. Treat him like an adult. Talk to him. Let  _ him _ decide if he needs protecting.”

“You know,” Keith flexed his fingers working through the swelling. “You could have said all of this before I punched the wall.”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have listened.”

“I might’ve.”

“Nope.” 

“So what if I… care? It’s better if he gets away from me. Safer.” 

“Isn’t that his decision?”

It was. And it scared him. He flopped back onto the bed. “It’s Sendak, Lance.”

“I know.”

“He could die.”

“I know.”

“Or worse.”

“Yup.”

“He doesn’t know anything.”

“Mira quién habla.”

“There are literally hundreds of reasons this is a bad idea.”

“Mmmhhhmmm.”

“What if… He’s probably pissed.”

“He’s hurt. And I don’t blame the guy. But-” he braced himself on Keith’s knees and leaned in “I see how he looks at you and you at him. So, it’s worth a fucking shot, man.” He stood up and ruffled Keith’s hair. He hopped back before the other could hit him. “And put some goddamn clothes on. I’m delicate.” Lance tossed a laundry bag at him. Keith dodged and barked out a laugh. 

Lance paused in the doorway. “For real though, Keith… You deserve to be happy.”

Keith pressed his lips together. “Don’t we all?”

“No. But maybe you do, is all.”

Keith’s phone buzzed. His heart stuttered. 

Lance put a hand on his hip and pointed at the phone. “Dude.”

Keith snatched it off the floor. He bit his lip as he turned it over to view the screen. 

Matt. 

He let out a huff and answered with a gruff, “Yeah?”

Matt’s voice was tight. “There’s been another one.”

“Where?”

“Off North Garrison. I’ll text you. But, they said it’s… intense.”

“He’s getting more powerful.”

“Did you get the ID you wanted?”

“It’s him, Matt.”

“Fuck. Ok. I’ll see you there.”

Keith tossed the phone in his pocket and tore open the laundry bag. This was bad. Another one already. The escalation… They were running out of time. 

The puppet is weaker than Keith hoped. 

Or Sendak is stronger than he was. 

Either way, it was going to come to boil. Soon.

More people were going to die. A lot more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always THANK YOU! So incredibly much for reading and comments and kudos.  
> You all make my life.  
> And as always, I owe my life to my incomparable Beta [CryptidKickFlip](https://twitter.com/cryptidkickflip)
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to yell at me, come and see me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kittykittymoon)

Shiro hadn’t even made it home before the call came. He was halfway across Kaufman Park and freezing his ass off. He’d shrugged on his shirt, but didn’t have the energy to button it. He carried his jacket in a wad under his arm and stuffed his fists in his wrinkled pants. He was exhausted but simmering with emotion.

From… From whatever the hell this thing with Keith was.

Fiery, beautiful, angry, Keith. Pulling Shiro into his orbit without even trying. Reducing him to ashes. And, God, it felt right, it was bound to burn.

Even the sun is doomed to consume everything it touches.

Shiro managed to catch a cab to the small gym off North Garrison where the latest carnage waited. He ignored Matt’s questioning look at his appearance as he ducked under the tape.

“What we got?”

Matt looked him up and down once again, but answered, “David Pruitt. 32. Competitive bodybuilder with history of a bad temper. Battery. Assaults. Which, ya know, I would consider par for the course. Ya know? Roid Rage.” He squinted at Shiro. “No offense.”

“I’m not a bodybuilder, Matt.”

He scoffed. “Sure, man.” He hesitated. “Are you, um, ok? You seem… Tired?”

Shiro sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.” He set his jaw and pushed into the weightroom.

And stopped short.

A pinprick of energy hit him on the chest. Like a raindrop. Seconds pass. A second drop. Another. Until Shiro was drenched in the onslaught of puissance. He let out a small gasp and felt Matt’s hand on his arm. Words spoken with a tinge of concern were only vibrations on the wind.

Shiro stepped forward as though he were pulled by string. And he could feel them. Strings. Threads. Each one a moment. An event that left an impression here.

A pressure began to build behind his eyes the closer he stepped to the center of the weightroom. Closer the showcase of slaughter. Closer to what used to a man.

The cable crossover machine was now a display case of gore. David Webster Pruitt, age 32, was held up by steel cables in a mock crucifixion. Head up, held by a second machine’s cable. A neatly folded towel was wrapped around the neck. The absorbent cotton the only thing keeping the wire from severing the tissue. His eyes bulged from the sockets. Obvious petechiae hemorrhage. He was strangled.

He felt abstract. Like watching himself through a maze of mirrors.

Normally Shiro would feel the pang of disgust that came with such torture, but he didn’t. He didn’t feel like Shiro. He felt the twist of hunger.

His body body tingled anew as he examined each injury. Wrists snapped. Ankles crushed.

Weights.

Without thought, he found himself mimicking the actions.

“David, David, David.” Did he say that? Did he hear it?

What was the difference?

Flashes of darkness. Rasping screams.

Hunger.

The pressure behind Shiro’s eyes grew.

“Ssshhhh...now...Sssshhh…”

The cuts.Yes. They needed to make the point.

Back to the body. The body, no. He was _alive_.

Take away what he loved so much. What mattered to him. All that mattered. He didn’t deserve it. Nobody should have what they love, if he couldn’t.

But he would. Soon. Soon. Soon.

Soon.

Shiro heard a whimper. It sounded so familiar. Like himself.

But no. He wasn’t there.

He was here and he had to feed him. To feed him.

So hungry.

It’s the only way to get her back.

Shiro felt the warmth of the flesh, the cascade of blood as hands cut away at the rectus abdominis, the biceps, and the quadriceps.

Feed.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t _him._ Shiro’s head felt like a grape in a vice.

Another yell in the distance. Who was yelling?

The wall.

Behind David was a wall. He stood in front of it forming characters in blood.

“Join the company of lions rather than assume the lead among foxes.”

White sparks began at the edge of his vision. The deluge was too much. Too much. He couldn’t feel the ground. He saw Matt.

He willed his body in that direction. But the current was so strong. His vision dimmed around the edges. Fireflies of light played in along the boundary of his sight.

“Shiro!”

That voice.

“Keith…”

Blackness.

 

///////

 

The stench of blood and brimstone stung Keith’s nostrils. The air felt heavy and humid in that moist towel way that gyms do. His skin prickled the further into the scene he went. The officers didn’t pay him much mind this time. A few fleeting glances, but for the most part they radiated disgust and fear.

Keith pushed open a swinging door and found himself in the weightroom. “Fuck…” He tried to take in the scene before him. The partially dissected body hanging from cables; the slabs of flesh on benches like an offer to bloodthirsty deity. He tried to focus on the blood and havoc, but a tall, familiar figure caught his eye.

Shiro was standing in front of the wall moving his arms in stiff mechanical motions. Every officer watched him wide-eyed as he moved.

Keith ran to Matt’s side. “What is-”

Shiro grabbed the sides of his head and cried out. His voice was ragged and thunderous. The collective held its breath. Energy pulsed in the air.

Oh so slowly, Shiro turned toward them. His face was blank as marble and the entire picture felt wrong. Bright eyes hazed and movements stilted and jerking.

Beside Keith, Matt tensed. “Holy fuck…”

A voice spoke from Shiro’s lips, “Join the company of lions rather than assume the lead among foxes.”

Keith knew that voice. It was etched into his mind for the rest of his life.

Sendak.

Shiro staggered forward a step. A flicker of emotion ghosted his face. Unable to stop himself, Keith cried out,  “Shiro!”

“Keith…” he rasped and like a puppet with cut strings, Shiro crumpled to the ground.

Keith sprinted across the room ignoring Matt’s protests. He landed on his knees next to Shiro’s body. He was pale. A light glaze of sweat on his forehead. He cradled his head on his lap.

“Keith!” Matt was next to him.

“What happened before I got here?”

“He came in looking like hell.” Pause. “Then he just started, I don’t know… He like zoned out. He was mumbling and moving around. Like he was sleep walking. Then he was, like, holding his head in hands and groaning. He went to the wall and then you came in and well… You know the rest.”

This was his fault.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Shiro’s powers were coming to the surface and he wasn’t ready. Keith should have stayed with him. He should have been here _with_ him.

Instead he…

There’ll be time later for blame.

Krolia appeared on her knees next to him. “He’s stuck, Keith.”

“I know.”

“He’s going to die.”

“No.” He looked up at Matt. “We have to get him to Allura.”

Matt’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “There’s an ambulance en route. He’s-”

“This is magic, Matt. Hospitals can’t do shit.” He looked back at the man in lap. His breathing was shallow. “Get a car.”

“Keith-”

“Now.” His tone surprised him, but Matt didn’t argue.

Krolia knelt next to him. They waited in silence. Keith ignored the stares and whispers from the officers on the scene.

Matt returned in record time and they carried Shiro the waiting car. Keith climbed in the back and laid Shiro’s head in his lap.

“Where am I going?” Matt asked as he pulled into traffic on Cass.

“Marmora’s Blade.”

“K-Kolivan’s place?” Matt groaned. “Are they even going to let you in? After, ya know, last time?”

“Last time was a fluke. I thought the goods were genuine.” They hadn’t been. Not even close. He’d been a little too naive to know he was being played. And Barnaby had burned him.

Then Kolivan had burned Barnaby. Literally.

As far as Keith was concerned, problem solved.

Kolivan, however, may not see it that way.

“A ‘fluke’?” Matt sighed. “Are you even sure that Allura will be there?”

“She’ll be there.”

Matt navigated them down to the riverfront. The air smelled of diesel and wet rot. The scenery was more akin to a doomsday film than a bustling metropolis, but that was basis of its appeal.

Marmora’s Blade was a repurposed warehouse nestled in the ruins of industry that was once a prosperous industrial district off the derelict Russell Boulevard. Kolivan had created the club as an official Sanctuary after he retired from… Whatever the fuck he did. Which as far as Keith could tell, was whatever he wanted.

He’d walked the earth for 250 years now. He began life as a Haitian voodoo priest. Cemented his place in supernatural lore after the Haitian Revolution and his magical influences on Toussaint L'Ouverture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines. From there he lived as he wanted, where he wanted, and took no shit from either side.

Keith admired him more than he wanted to admit.

Matt cursed as they hit a pothole in the the cracked cement of the parking lot. The rundown lot hosted a cornucopia of high-end cars, trucks, and motorcycles, the owners of which had no fear of human thieves.

Afterall, why would the tiger fear the mouse?

Especially when the mouse was often dinner.

The building was heavily warded in any case. Ninety-nine percent of the population couldn’t even see the Bugattis, Porsches, and Ducatis behind the weathered chainlink. Matt only managed because of Keith granting him limited Sight years ago.

It should have been complete Sight, but well… Keith had no real idea what he was doing at 14 and Matt wasn’t anxious to try again. Not after the side effects…

“So do you want to do this?” Matt gestured at Shiro.

“Well, I guess we leave him here un-

“Leave him here?”

“Leave him here _until_ we talk to Allura. We can’t drag an 6’4” unconscious man through a supernatural bar.”

Matt made face. “I guess… I just feel bad.”

“He’s fine. He won’t wake up.” Keith brushed the hair off his forehead. “He can’t.”

Matt watched him through narrowed eyes. Keith cleared his throat and shifted his body so he could lay Shiro’s head on the seat. He felt the weight of Matt’s gaze on him as they made their way to the front. But he ignored it.

A hulking pair of Fallen stood at the door. A simple brass cage on the velvet covered table between them. A single white dove preening on a suspended branch.

Matt leaned over and stage whispered, “What’s up with the bird?”

Keith winked at Matt before putting on his best smile. “Throk. Trug. Good to see you guys. You look good. You look…” he looked the massive men up and down “Clean. You look clean.”

“Kogane,” Throk drawled with a frown. “What do you want?”

“Can’t a guy just come to chat? Hang out?”

The Fallen exchanged looks. “No,” they said in unison.

“Keith…” Matt hissed and grabbed his arm.

Keith smiled again and patted his hand. “Look, I get it. You guys are still mad about the card game. But, believe me, I had no intention of winning. At least not by that much.” Keith stood next to Trug and patted his arm. He snapped his fingers and black card manifested. “I am always willing to give you a rematch. I know you are saving up for a ring for… For…”

“Helgar,” Throk supplied.

Keith clapped his hands. “Helgar! And man, is she ever… Helgar.”

Matt covered his face with both hands.

Trug exchanged another look with Throk, then accepted the card.

“Great!” Keith beamed up at them and moved back beside Matt. He elbowed his brother and turned back to the pair guarding the door. Throk gestured at the dove.

Keith rolled his eyes, “Really? You’re gonna ID me?”

The Fallen shrugged. “Boss’ orders,” Throk answered.

“No exceptions,” Trug added.

Keith sighed, but acquiesced. He concentrated on the fragile creature and with a flick of his wrist ignited it. The Fallen stepped aside.

Matt let out a shriek next to him. “What the fuck? What the FUCK? Keith, Keith! What the fuck?”

Keith grabbed his arm and pulled him forward  “Calm down! It’s fine!” He smiled sheepishly at Throk as he pulled Matt past. The dove fluttered next to them, unbothered by the diminishing flames as it pecked at seed.

Keith pushed open the rusted steel door and hauled Matt inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blue and pink lighting inside. Black steel and glaring chromes made up the small round tables and chairs to the right. Various created roved the marble dance floor to the left. The thick scent of Acacia washed over them. Sweet and mild. The swirling incense melted into the atmosphere pulsing with the steady beat of Light Asylum pouring from unseen speakers.

They pushed forward toward the sleek black bar. A lithe man with in a tight mesh top smiled at him from behind the counter. A sultry smile spread across his red lips revealing his canines. Too long. Too sharp to be human. He flicked his tongue and winked.

Keith looked away and tightened his grip on Matt’s arm tugging him toward the dance floor.

He could hear the wet sounds of Fallen feeding and Forgiven giggling as they pushed through the throng of bodies towards the staircase in the corner.

Allura would be on the second floor. Private rooms and a quieter, more social area when compared to the writhing flesh on the dance floor made up the second story of Marmora’s Blade. The third was, for all intents and purposes, off limits. Those were Kolivan’s private rooms.

Suddenly, Matt was gone. Keith looked around frantically. Pale hands and hot bodies seemed to have swallowed his brother. Keith growled in frustration and pushed hard into anyone who touched him earning glares and snaps. He reached out and felt for Matt’s energy. Damn near impossible in the pulsing throng of the lesser devine.

“Oh hey!” Matt laughed out from the left. Keith squeezed through and craned his neck at a couple of lesser demonesses who watched him with far too much interest for comfort. Shiny black vinyl criss crossed their statuesque bodies in a mimicry of clothing. Long red nails and flicking tongues roved over Matt’s neck and face.

“Matt!”

Twin red eyes flared at Keith as the demonesses paused their caresses. One looked at the other and communicated something unspoken. The one to Matt’s left rose slowly. Her eyes trained on Keith. Hunger in her eyes.

“Don’t make me break the rules and evict your ass,” Keith snapped and stepped forward. He pushed past her and snatched Matt from her sister’s grasp. She hissed at the interruption.

“Come on,” he growled as pulled Matt’s arm. He urged him forward giving one last glare to the twins he set them on a course for the twisting iron staircase. “They aren’t human, Matt. They’d eat you alive.”

Matt seemed to consider the implications and smiled. “I might like that.”

“Literally. They will literally eat you. Do not try and fuck them.”

Matt made a face. “Fine.”

They navigated through the writhing bodies and finally made it to the stairs. Matt paused and gave Keith a look. “Speaking of trying to fuck… Allura.”

“Matt. No. She’s over 2,000 years old. She isn’t interested.” He nudged him upwards.

“Maybe. Maybe not. And what about you?” Matt stepped out onto the landing.

“What about me?”

“Allura. You. Ya know?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “She was my mom’s friend. You know how weird that would be?”

“Whatever. I watch porn. It happens.”

Keith walked past his brother into the lounge. Plush black lounges and stained glass filled the room. A gleaming ivory chandelier hung from the center. Twisted tentacles branched upward holding small lanterns and casting a deep amber glow over the room. Classical music replaced the dark electronica from below.

Keith closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. Feeling for Allura’s familiar presence.

“Come on.” He strode across the floor toward the private rooms. The shiny black doors were marked by numbers and sigils. Each indicating what sort of beings were allowed. Keith stopped in front of a door marked 200 with Zadkiel’s sigil.

Matt looked at him confused. “This is Zadkiel’s sigil. Angel of mercy. Forgiveness. And this” he pointed at the number “200 is the number of those who are receiving divine reward. You really should know more of this.”

“You sound like Pidge.”

“Good.” He pressed his hand on the door. “Ephphatha.” He pushed it open.

Nina Simone’s contralto filled the air.

_It's a new dawn_

_It's a new day_

_It's a new life_

_For me_

_And I'm feeling good_

Allura turned toward the entrance with an amused look. Her white curls pulled into a lucious high ponytail that spilled down to her waist. “Keith,” her sweet voice and melodic accent made his name sound like treat. He smiled. The marble floor clicked against her tan Louboutins as she glided forward to wrap him in a tight embrace.

“Hey, Allura,” his voice tight. She always smelled of Chanel No. 5 and sunshine. It brought him back to the days she would sit with him in her lap next to his mother. She loved to mess his hair and chase him around the yard. He thought she was an angel.

And in a way, he was right.

Allura was a Forgiven. Resurrected to serve the Light after her death during childbirth around 260ish BCE. She was the wife of a follower of St. Pachomius and helped found a cenobitic community.

Keith had always thought of her an aunt.

An aunt his brother had an embarrassing crush on.

“Hey Allura,” Matt smiled over his shoulder. “You look amazing as always. Is that a new dress?”

“Oh! It’s new actually. The Hermes spring collection.”

“Well, it is fantastic.” Matt stepped forward and attempted to place his hand on Allura’s back. She sidestepped and gestured towards a pair of plush grey cabrioles.

“What brings you here, Keith? I do hope you aren’t gambling again.” She arched a delicate brow and smiled. “I can only do so much for keeping them from killing you.”

“Allura, I actually need to ask you a favor.” He shifted in his seat knocking into Matt.

“Oh?” she reached to the table next to her and poured a glass of Dom Perignon. She eyed him with concern.

Keith didn’t ask for favors. He made a point to never be indebted to anyone. For any reason. She knew this.

Keith closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I have a sleeping Seer in the car.”

“I’m sorry?”

He sighed. “He’s stuck. He’s a cop. He went to a demonic crime scene and channelled. Now he’s stuck, Allura.” He gnawed his chapped bottom lip. “He’s dying.”

She stood and moved to the bar. “Demonic crime scene?” She was playing casual, but curiosity was evident. “I can only imagine what sort of crime it must be to bring you back here.” She glanced his way. “What kind of demon.”

There was no point in lying. “It’s Sendak.”

“I know. But you know that I am bound by the rules.”

“I just need some advice on how to approach him.”

“Don’t.” She shrugged lightly, but her tone was clipped. “You are not the one to do this. You remember Newcastle.”

“Allura, I need you to wake Shiro and…” he stood at the end of the bar “Keep him safe until this is over. Keep him in the Light. Recruit him. I don’t care. He needs to be kept safe.”

She swept her right arm out and Shiro appeared on the divan beside Keith. She walked over and regarded the man before her. “I do have to wonder, however,” Allura cocked her head “Why you do not simply retrieve him yourself?” Her sapphire eyes glowed briefly as she assessed Keith.

He looked away briefly; then back. “I can’t.”

A flicker of recognition, then a slow smile. “Ah… I see.” She returned to the bar. The crystal of her champagne flute clinked on the marble surface as she sat it down. She stared down at the amber liquid regarding each bubble as it rose. “Keith… I know you are aware that I am fond of you.” She looked at him then. A subtle sadness like a veil over her perfect features. She closed the distance between then and rested a soft hand on his cheek. “I watched you grow from the womb to the man now standing here before me. Headstrong and beautiful. I often wonder if my own child would have been like you…” She hummed and pushed a stray hair behind his ear. “Keith, I will not do as you ask.”

“Allura-”

She raised her hand to silence his protest. “That is not to say that I will not help you with Sendak; I will offer what assistance I can.” She strode back to the bar and retrieved her flute. “But I will not help you in your quest to remain alone.”

Keith opened his mouth to speak, but a huff was all he managed.

Allura smiled and sipped her champagne. “Now, if you wish to enter your man’s mind, I will be glad to supervise.”

Keith looked over at Shiro’s body resting on the grey divan. Lips slightly parted. Breathing shallow. Even now he exuded beauty. Power.

The draw was indescribable.

The draw was terrifying.

Even now.

He knelt beside him and pulled Azrael’s seal from from his pocket. He rested the coin on Shiro’s forehead. A small portal opened.

Distantly Matt mumbled something, but Keith didn’t register. Instead he took a deep breath and turned to Allura. “You know what to do. Don’t let him die.”

“What about you?” Matt asked.

“I’ll be fine.” He looked over at Allura. “Ready?”

She nodded.

Keith closed his eyes and let the invocation fall from his lips.The air popped around him and his senses reeled. Upon opening his eyes again, he found himself in a midnight swirl of purples and blacks. Soft light emanated from the smokey bubbles orbiting around him. Memories.

Keith always thought it was strange how the mindscape and astral plane looked like night and day versions of the same world. But he supposed it made sense.

What are our souls other than our minds? What are our minds but our memories? Both built intrinsically intertwined with experience.

Shiro’s mind was warm and dark and orderly. Defined. Keith frowned. He looked again at the neatly orbiting globes around him. All in line and all in a steady pattern.

Minds were chaotic things. Memories generally flowing freely as they could. Bouncing and redirecting on a whim.

A flash of light caught his attention.

His frown deepened.

Keith began toward the source. Half walking and half floating. He always thought it was the closest to space walking he would ever get.

He pushed through two more perfect orbits of memories. The orbs always falling back into line like a planet around its star. He experienced bits and pieces of Shiro’s life as he touched them. Distance laughs from a birthday party. Playing with Kuron in the backyard. Pretending he didn’t see the dead man in the classroom. First rugby game. Joining the Marines. Gun fire from a range. The Shiro’s mother smiled when he she saw him in uniform for the first time. Shouting fights with a handsome blonde man. The same man kissing Shiro. Touching him. Moaning “Takashi” as they explored each other’s bodies.

It shouldn’t bother bother Keith. He’d known Shiro wasn’t a virgin. Keith himself had lovers. Sometimes, a lot.  But still… He didn’t want to linger on why his stomach tightened and his jaw clenched at the thought of another man’s hands on Shiro’s body.

He pushed forward and found the source of the flash.

There in the center of all of Shiro’s memories was a giant smoke filled orb. Flashes of lightning coruscated through the haze inside.

“Jesus,” Keith muttered as he walked closer. He’d never seen anything like it. It radiated energy. Pulsed even. “Allura!”

He heard her response in his mind. “Keith?”

“I-I don’t know if I can break it. It’s huge. And full of lightning. When are these things full of lightning?”

“It’s his only chance of waking up, Keith. If you don’t release him, he will fade and die.”

He swallowed audibly and stared at the globe in front of him. “Ok, Shiro.” He drew the runes in the in front of him. Quick and concise. A pulse of energy hit the orb.

It cracked.

But remained intact.

He did it again. An invisible wave hit him and he found himself on his back. “Fuck.”

“Keith!” Allura’s voice called. “Keith! Something is wrong! You must leave!”

He struggled to his feet and began forming the runes again. Lightning burst from the cracks. And Keith took it as his cue.

He ran.

He needed to get back to the edge of the mindscape to exit. Back to the portal.

“Keith! You must exit _now_!” Allura called.

He could see the portal ahead held open by the sigil he’d place. A pulse hit him. He stumbled forward, but managed to stay upright. The portal blinked.

He pushed himself harder. He really should quit smoking.

Another energy wave. He used the momentum to jump into the portal.

Keith rolled as landed hard on the marbled floor. He panted hard. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Allura opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Shiro’s scream. Keith scrambled to his feet. “Shiro!” Matt helped steady him.

Shiro’s eyes were clenched closed and all of his muscled taunt. The veins on his neck strained against his skin as he screamed again.

Allura held Keith back. “No! Stay back!”

Shiro’s body rose from the divan chest first. A bright blue light shone from his mouth and eyes.

“Takashi!” Keith screamed over Allura’s shoulder.

This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. The room shook around them. A deep rumble of earth shifting groaned below.

Then as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Shiro’s body lay calm and still on divan. The air felt heavy. Electric.

“Keith-” Allura was cut off by the door bursting open behind them. Kolivan. An absolute impenetrable wall of a man barged into the room. His long white hair braided back and his rugged features set in anger.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Kolivan, I-” Allura began, but Keith wasn’t listening. Shiro had begun to stir. And Keith managed to wiggle past the Forgiven and slide onto the floor next to him.

“Shiro!” He pushed the hair off his forehead. The black had been replaced by silver. It shone like starlight under the soft glow of the chandelier.

Shiro’s eyes fluttered open. Gone was the slate color Keith had come to know; instead a warm amber filled his irises. “Keith?” He tried to sit up.

Keith pressed down on his chest. “Stay there. Just stay there.”

“What happened?” his voice was hoarse.

“Well…” Keith debated on how to explain.

Matt clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Shiro! You scared the shit out of us! You went all weird at the scene and then Keith went into your brain to save you. But now you’re good.”

Keith glared.

“Right?” Matt asked. “I mean, he’s good to go now.”

“You!” Kolivan’s voice boomed he gently pushed Allura to the side on his way to Keith. “You brought a Nephilim into my house without consent in order to wake him!”

Oh fuck. Keith looked over at Shiro and understanding hit him with all the subtlety of a bullet. His beauty. His powers. Why he didn’t die in Tehran when he should have.

Shiro was a Nephilim.

A fucking half angel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and to my dearest, bestest Beta [CryptidKickFlip](https://twitter.com/cryptidkickflip)
> 
> And for the bedroom scene, I was all about this [this song](https://youtu.be/Z4d4yB-cm6E)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And it came to pass when man commenced to multiply upon the face of the earth, and daughters were born to them, that the benei elokim saw the daughters of man when they were beautifying themselves, and they took for themselves wives from whomever they chose. And the Lord said, “Let My spirit not quarrel forever concerning man, because he is also flesh, and his days shall be a hundred and twenty years." The nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the benei elokim would come to the daughters of man, and they would bear for them; they are the mighty men, who were of old, the men of renown. (Genesis 6:1–4)

“Kolivan, please!” Allura moved between them. “This is my fault. I failed to understand the nature of the creature he wanted to help. He didn’t know!”

Kolivan’s eyes flicked across Allura’s face. Searching out the lie. But there was none to be found.

Keith felt Shiro shifting behind him. He moved to help him, but it wasn’t needed. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but Keith didn’t mean anything-”

“You are not welcome here,” Kolivan growled at Shiro. 

“Me?”

“I cannot harbor you, Nephil. And you-” he turned to Keith “You are reckless! His death will be on your shoulders, Hellblazer. I want you out. His presence has been felt and they will come for him.”

“Who is coming?” Matt asked from the side.

“The Powers…” Keith’s reply came out breathy. His heart was pounding. “They’re going to kill him.”

“What?” Matt screeched. “Wh-Why?”

“Any Nephil who makes it adulthood with powers intact, is a danger to the balance. Both sides will want him for their use,” Allura answered. She looked at Keith with pity. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

“I don't understand,” Shiro looked at Keith for answers. But the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he opened a portal. “Matt, come on!” He grabbed Shiro's hand and pulled him through. 

His boots splash into green tinged mud on the other side. Drizzle hangs in the air like fog and clings to Keith’s skin. He tightens his grip on Shiro and sludges forward. 

“K-Keith?” Shiro stumbled through the mud, but Keith kept pulling. His mind focused solely on the other’s safety. “Where are we?”

Keith ignored the question. 

“Keith!” Matt called from behind. He sounded breathless. “Is this a fucking graveyard? Dude! What is this? What is going on?”

The sunken headstones were worn smooth by the elements. Moss and creeping Jenny spread along the ruins of the graveyard. The static buzz of magic grows stronger the further they trudge and wraps around like Keith the mist in the air. He chanced a look at Shiro and found his face drawn in confusion. He felt it too.

Keith gave Shiro’s hand one last squeeze before letting it drop from his grasp. He formed the runes for Cain. “Yada`” He spoke into the darkness. 

The air shifted. He heard Shiro gasp. Keith smiled at the innocence of the sound. He reclaimed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles before pulling him toward the house that now stood before them. Or mansion would be more accurate. Manor? Keith wasn’t sure. 

And it didn’t matter. Shiro would be safe here. 

Safe-ish.

Probably. 

The tall brick house hovered just above the ground and he had to hop to get the first step. Shiro hesitated, but stepped up onto the porch with ease.

Matt remained on the ground. Arms crossed and mouth set in a firm line. “Matt, come on!”

He narrowed his eyes, but stepped onto the wood. 

Keith ignored the glare as he reached into his pocket. He found his blade and flicked it open.

“Keith, wh-” Shiro’s question was cut off by the answer. 

Keith sliced along his palm, cupping his hands together to capture the blood. He reached up and smeared scarlet along the top of the doorframe. The symbols engraved there glowed like embers as they drink in the moisture. A series of clicks followed and the door fell open with a low creak. 

He pushed inside. A fire erupted in a large fireplace to the left. Antique furniture filled the room and overstuffed bookshelves lined the walls. The air was stagnant, but not a speck of dust could be seen. 

Keith plopped hard into red settee and sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to cradle his face in his hands. He felt the cushion sink next to him and the warmth of Shiro’s hand on his back. 

It was almost enough to make him break. He swallowed down a sob and let the other pull him closer. It wasn’t what he should do. He should be comforting Shiro.

Apologizing. Explaining. 

Anything, but letting this impossible man hold him like his life wasn’t in danger. Like his very existence wasn’t a death sentence. 

But Keith was weak. And tired. So fucking tired. 

He felt eyes on him and knew Matt was watching him; waiting for an explanation that he was owed. 

Keith sighed heavily and pulled away from Shiro’s embrace. His eyes flicked to Shiro’s lips and as if reading his mind, Shiro closed the distance between them. 

Matt cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “What’s going on, Keith?”

Keith pulled away and faced his brother. 

“You’re afraid,” Shiro’s words, though barely above a whisper, cut through the room like a knife through flesh. 

 

/////////////

 

Shiro felt it as if it were his own. Keith’s desire to kiss him. His sadness. His regret. And when he pressed his lips against Keith’s, he could have sworn he felt them both. 

And Matt. 

Matt was angry. He was confused. And bit uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. 

Shiro watched Keith pull away. He felt the desire shift. And fear bubbled to the surface. Why? Why was he feeling this? “You’re afraid.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth and into the pregnant silence of the room. He felt their surprise. Keith’s embarrassment. He clamped his mouth closed. 

Something was wrong. 

Maybe he was still hazy from passing out. Keith watched him. Curiosity now.

“Keith.” Shiro paused his throat suddenly dry. “What’s wrong with me?” 

Fear again. It felt heavy. His stomach knotted. 

“Shiro,” Keith hesitated. His eyes flicked over to Matt. He sighed. 

Resignation. 

“Ok,” Matt clapped his hands. “Let’s start easy. Where the fuck are we?”

“Technically? The Dreaming.”

“The what?”   
“Without getting too deep into it, let’s just say we’re in a friend’s house in the dream world and we should be safe. For a while.”

“Whose house is this?”

Keith scratched the back of his neck. “A friend said I could come here if I needed to. And I need to. We can, uh, leave it at that.”

Shiro knew that there was more. Much more to that story. But decided not to pry. Besides, there were much bigger issues. 

“Why are we here?” Matt asked.

“It’s because of me,” Shiro answered. He looked at Keith. “Isn’t it?” The swirl of emotions coming off of him was almost dizzying.

“What do you know about your parents, Shiro?” 

It was unexpected. “Um, everything I think. They’re normal.”

“But they’re both alive? Your mother is alive?”   
Shiro frowned. “Yes.”

“What about your biological mother?”

“My what? Keith, I’m not adopted.”

Keith laid his hand on Shiro’s. “Are you sure?”

Maybe it was the tone. Maybe it was the hesitate sadness in Keith’s voice. Maybe it was the last few weeks.

Whatever the reason, Shiro wasn’t sure.

“We need to know.  _ You _ need to know,” Keith worked his long fingers in between Shiro’s thicker ones lacing them together. “It’ll make everything else easier to understand.”

Shiro nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His mother answered on the second ring.

“Takashi,” she chirped into the receiver. “How are you?”

He stumbled over his words. “Mom, I-how-” he sighed, “I’m-I’m fine. I need to…” He glanced at Keith. “Mom, am I adopted? Were adopted?”   
Glass shattered somewhere in the background. Ami Shirogane was silent. 

“Mom?”

“Takashi,” she sounded breathless, “Why are you asking this?”

He bit his lip. She was hurting. The pain was rolling through the speaker in a plea. And normally, he would apologize. He wouldn’t push. He never wanted to see that look he remembered from so long ago. Disappointment. Fear. 

Takashi was the “good” boy who only wanted to make them happy.

But look at what it had caused. What it had cost. 

He pushed. “Were we adopted?”

“Yes,” the word quiet, defeated. “But you don’t understand, Takashi. Stephanie was-”

“Dad’s sister?”   
“She was sick. She saw things. She heard things. Like…”

“Like we did.”

“Yes,” Ami sniffed. “Nobody knows how it happened. She was in the hospital. She was always watched. But somehow… She-She said he was an angel. Made of fire.” She paused again shaky breathing filling the air. “And then when she went into labor, it was too early. And she bled so much. But you were fine. You both were fine. But her body gave out. I’m so sorry, Takashi. I’m so sorry.”

His throat felt tight. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because,” Ami sobbed, “Because I am your mother, Takashi. We couldn’t- _ I _ couldn’t have babies. And when Stephanie was pregnant, we arranged to take you. To raise you. I am your mother. Yours and Kuron’s. It didn’t matter to me who’s body grew you. It still doesn’t. You’re my sons.” 

God. It explained so much. So much. The panic. The tests. Their quest for ‘normal’. However he’d feel about it later, he knew it came from a place of love. “Mom, I love you.”

“I-I love you,” she gasped out between hiccups. 

“I’ll come see you soon, ok?” 

“Okay.”

He slid the phone back into his pocket. Two pairs of eyes on his every move. “What does this mean? What does all this mean?”

“Shiro…” Keith pressed into his side concern and warmth flowed through him. “Shiro, do you know the story of the Nephilim?” He ran a hand down his back. 

“No.”

Keith looked at Matt. “You?”

“I mean… Just the basics. But I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Keith nodded and turned back to Shiro. “Before the flood-”

“Wait,” Matt interrupted, “That was real?”

“A lot of shit’s real, Matt. Just not how you think. The flood didn’t cover the entire earth. But, He flooded parts of the earth. That’s why so many cultures have the same story. He flooded the Euphrates, the Nile, the Amazon, the Mississippi. Just anywhere that would kill the Nephilim.”

“But why?” Shiro asked. “Why kill them?”

“They were considered ‘monstrosities’ by the Light. A perversion of divinity. At least, that’s the propaganda they like to feed us. In reality, the Light was afraid of them. A being with angelic powers and a human soul?

With souls come free will. And with free will comes rebellion. Pretty easy to figure out why He wasn’t into it.

“And for the Dark, well, the Nephilim were batteries. An angelic power supply with a corruptible human soul. Pretty straight forward.”  

“But how… Why do they think I’m one?”

Keith met his gaze. “Because you are, Takashi. You are a nephil. Somehow your powers were mostly locked away. But you were still sensitive. You both were.” He bit his lip unsure of how to proceed. “Someone hid you.”

“And now,” Matt stood as he spoke, “Now that Shiro’s got his powers, they’re gonna kill him?”

Keith nodded.

Matt walked over to the fireplace. “Kuron figured it out.” He leaned against the rough stones. “That’s why he did it. He knew Sendak was going to use him.”

Shiro stared at his partner. “Who’s Sendak? What are you talking about?”

Keith's grip on him tightened. “No. I won't let him.” 

“Keith?” Shiro turned toward him. 

Keith's jaw was set. “I'll track the puppet tomorrow. He had to have come from James’ package. From that vessel. Lotor gave it to his father.”

“Who is James?” Shiro asked.

“Ok, so let's say he is the puppet. What are you gonna do on your own?” Matt's irritation masked his fear. 

But why could Shiro feel it? 

“Nothing. Step one is confirming that Zarkon's the killer. And I do that by finding the vessel.”

Keith's determination felt solid. But there was something else there too. 

“And you're going alone? What about me?” The fear spiked. It made Shiro's skin prickle. 

“Yes,” Keith's determination solidifying and that something other. “I need you to go to Lance. And you two look over everything from Kuron's death. Ask Pidge to help. Stay in the apartment.”

“Stay out of your way is what you mean,” Matt shot back. The fear wrapped around Shiro's body causing him to shudder. 

“That's not it, Matt,” Keith gritted his teeth and looked away. That other feeling rising up shaking his resolve. 

Love. 

Keith loved his brother. 

Shiro swallowed hard. The protective force of Keith's love warred against Matt's fear on Shiro's skin. 

“Sure, it is,” Matt spat out. Hurt now. He's hurt. He's scared. “You don't want us in your way. Just like always.”

“Guys,” Shiro tried. 

“No, that's not it.” 

“Just because I am a normal person doesn't make me useless.”

Keith stood. “I never said that. You don't understand.”

“Maybe I could if you ever told me shit!”

“I can't!”

“We're family, Keith!”

“That's why I can't tell you!”

Shiro's skin pulsed with their energy. Their emotions. He couldn't take anymore. He flew to his feet. “Enough!” His voice rattled through the house. The floor beneath them rattled. There was a flash of white across his vision. 

Silence hung in the air. The men stared at Shiro. 

“Don't you get it?” Shiro sighed. “He's afraid for you.” He waved a hand at Matt. “And he's trying to protect you.” He gestured at Keith. “You're brothers. You love each other.” Shiro ran a hand through his hair. His body ached suddenly. How long had it been since he slept? He was so tired. “Bicker if you want to, but I'm fucking exhausted. I'm going to find a bed and hope nobody kills me while I sleep.” He walked toward a wooden staircase.

“Did his eyes just light up?” Matt asked as Shiro disappeared into the darkness of the second floor.

It took a few tries, but eventually Shiro found a room with a bed. He dropped his ruined suit jacket onto a chair and flopped onto the mattress with a huff. He stared up a the canopy and tried to still his mind. 

Who was he?  _ What _ was he? And why the hell was he feeling everything Matt and Keith were?

As if on cue a sense of trepidation radiated from beyond the doorway. A hesitant knocked sounded. “Shiro?”   
Keith.

Shiro sat up and pulled his shirt straight. “Come in.”

The door opened with a soft creak. Keith’s lithe figure was bathed in low light and shadow from the dusk-like lighting pouring in the window. He let the door fall closed behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Unease rolled from him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Shiro tried to keep his tone light, but failed. He scrubbed his hands across his face. “It’s a lot. And-and I feel off. It’s hard to explain.”

Keith inched closer. His nervousness tinged with concern. “Try.”

“It’s like I’m feeling your feelings. Matt’s feelings. Physically.”

Keith moved closer still. “You’re an empath. I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“Keith,” Shiro sounded tired even to his own ears, “I don’t understand any of this.”

“I know.” Keith laid a hand on Shiro’s face. A gentle thing, but it jolted through his body like lightning. Keith jerked back reflexively. He stared down at Shiro with wide eyes. 

Slowly. Carefully. Shiro reached out and took Keith’s hand. No shock this time. Just a steady thrum of energy. He met Keith’s eyes in the low light. He moved the hand back to cheek. The thrum surged and pulsed with their heartbeats. 

“Shiro…” Keith breathed the name. “Takashi.” His thumb moved slowly along Shiro’s jaw. “I’m sorry.” 

For earlier.  

For all of it. 

Keith didn’t say the words, but Shiro felt the weight of intention. He moved his prosthetic to Keith’s hip. “I should have stayed.” His body thrummed with potential. 

“I shouldn't have pushed you away.”

“You were afraid.” Shiro pulled him closer. “I don’t want to hurt you, Keith.”

Keith tensed as his guilt clawed its way between them. Keith’s hand dropped. “I hurt people, Shiro. There’s something wrong about me… I’m poison.” He stepped back out of Shiro’s reach. “If you stick around me, you’ll end up dead.  Or worse.”

“Worse than dead?”   
“There’s worse than dead, Shiro.” He wrapped his arms around himself and walked to the window. “Trust me.” He was pulling away again. Retreating into his well-worn grief. 

This time, Shiro wasn’t going to let him. He wasn’t leaving.

He was still a planet orbiting a star. Helpless against the gravity that pulled him in and threatened to consume them both. Shiro moved behind Keith. He slotted his hands on slender hips and drew their bodies together. Their energies pulsing through one another. “I do trust you, Keith.” 

Keith relaxed in his arms. “You really shouldn’t.”

Shiro hummed and let his fingers slide under the hem of Keith’s shirt. The skin on skin contact intensified the electricity thrumming through their bodies. “Maybe,” his voice dropped an octave, “But I do.”

Keith spun around and pressed their chests together. He chewed his bottom lip and peered up from beneath his lashes. Shiro’s heart pounded. Desire rolled through him. 

Was it his? 

Was it Keith’s?  

It didn’t matter. He surged forward and captured Keith’s mouth. 

And completed a circuit. 

Shiro pulled Keith flush and deepened the kiss. Energies jolting through his body at the action. He felt every slide of his hands on Keith’s skin as though it were his own. Keith keened into his mouth. “Shiro.” And slide long fingers into Shiro’s waistband.

Shiro let out a moan. He could feel him everywhere. His hands, Keith’s hands. There was no difference in their pleasure. He pulled the shirt over Keith’s head and moved to mouth along his neck. 

“Aaahhh, God!” Keith pawed at his back. “I can feel you everywhere.”

Shiro licked along Keith’s jawline and into his mouth. His hands deftly worked the snap and fly of his tight black jeans. “Fuck…” Keith wasn’t wearing underwear. Shiro gently scratched his fingertips in the black curls above his cock stopping short of the base. He pulled back leaving Keith gasping and curious. He lowered himself catching Keith’s belt loops and tugging the jeans down his long long legs. He tossed the offending fabric over his shoulder before standing slowly dragging his palms up toned thighs and around a slender waist. The power thrumming between them was intoxicating. The feeling of Keith’s heart beating. His breath hitching. His cock standing hard between them. The first pearls of precum forming in the low light. 

He swiped his thumb across the tip and felt the touch on his own cock. 

“Sh-Shiro...nnnhhh…” 

He slid the thumb into his mouth making a show of long swipe of his tongue.

Keith grabbed his hand as he pulled it away from his lips and guided it to his own mouth. He pulled Shiro's thick fingers between his lips with his tongue. Suckling and drooling around them when Shiro pushed them further down. 

Shiro pulled his digits free only to wrap them around Keith dripping cock. Sliding the velvet skin between this first and middle fingers spreading the saliva down the shaft. Veins rose and pulsed with anticipation. He wrapped his hand around and stroked upward earning a gasp from Keith.

Shiro couldn't help but growl out at the sensation. Every stroke, each ministration, enveloped his cock just as sure as if he were stroking himself. 

Keith ran a hand up Shiro's arm and around his neck. He pulled him down into crushing kiss. He snaked his other hand down Shiro's underwear and took possession of his aching member. 

Keith cried out and lolled his head back. “Takashi!”

“You--hhhnn-you feel it,” Shiro managed. 

Keith panted out an aborted affirmation.  Shiro pressed his face into the crook of his lover's neck. 

It was too much. 

It wasn't enough. 

God. To be inside of him. To have him inside.  Enveloping each other in the electricity that flowed between. The closest thing to being one that he could imagine. 

The thought sent him over the edge and carried Keith with him.

Shiro's vision whited out and he came with a yell.  Keith clung to him as they spilled into each other's hands.  

Keith's body went limp against him. Shiro lowered them both to the floor in a fluid motion. He kept Keith against him dropping kisses into his hair and let his breath even out. The energy around them calmed once again falling back to the steady pulse that Shiro was quickly finding comfort in. 

Keith stirred against him. His eyelashes tickled Shiro's chest and he couldn't stop his smile when one violet eye peeked up at him. “Hey,” he whispered. 

Keith nuzzled against him before looking up. “Your eyes light up when you cum.” Keith seemed pleased by the declaration.

“What?”

He smiled. “And downstairs when you yelled.” Keith sat up straighter. He brushed Shiro's hair back. “Your eyes are gold now. And your hair is silver. All of it. It's fucking beautiful.” His hand moved to Shiro's jaw. Keith pulled him forward into a sweet kiss. He pressed his forehead against Shiro's and closed his eyes. “I'm not good at this. You make me feel things. Things I never thought I would.”

Shiro tucked an errant hair behind Keith's ear. “Me too. I barely know you but I don't want to give you up. Not if I can help it.” He kissed the tip of his nose. “Not if you want me.”

Keith sat up and watched Shiro. “The demon we're facing, his name is Sendak. He was the-” he sighed, “He was the demon my father made a contract with.”

“Keith-”

Keith put a finger on Shiro's mouth. Shiro kissed the tip and laced his fingers through Keith's. 

“I have spent my life trying to figure out where he is and how to send him back to Hell. I got close once. But I fucked it up. People died. My best friend, James, went dark after that. Wanted to prove he was better than me. He dabbled and dealed and ended up confining Sendak to a vessel.” He shifted in Shiro's lap. “But containment isn't the same as banishing. Especially if you're a knock off exorcist with slipshod training.” He huffed. 

Shiro smiled. 

“So, because he's an idiot, James takes a demon in jar home and ends up consumed. You see… Sendak feeds off obsession. Addiction. And James…”

Sadness again. Shiro squeezed Keith's hand.

“He had a shit time growing up. He could hear things. Heroin helped him cope. But he'd been clean last I knew.” Keith swallowed. “Having Sendak there. Contained or not, he would have been able to hear him. All the time. Day and night. So, I guess he went back to the needle. Which would have fed Sendak. Anyway, it was already too late by the time James stuck it in a box and sent it to my old address. He was already too deep. Dead before I got there.”

“That isn't your fault.”

Keith pressed his lips together. “If I hadn't fucked up in Newcastle and let Sendak get away, James wouldn't have left. Sendak wouldn't be loose in the city killing people.”

“Maybe.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. 

“Fine. Maybe it wouldn't have happened that way, but who’s to say it wouldn't have happened 15 other ways? The point is, it doesn't matter. James made choices. You have no way of controlling that. You can't blame yourself for things he did on his own.” He put a hand on each side of Keith's face and kissed him. “It's not your fault.”

Keith blinked at him. Relief warred with guilt across his pretty face. “You really are part angel. You talk just like they do.” He huffed out a laugh and nuzzled into the crook of Shiro's neck. 

Shiro chuckled. “I still have no idea what any of this means.”

Keith yawned and turned his face up. “I want you to be safe.”

“Me too.”

Keith playfully batted at his chest. “I'm serious. You're a good person, Takashi. And…” He traced a finger along Shiro's collarbone. “I care about you.”

Shiro felt the warmth of embarrassment rolling off Keith. He tapped a finger under his chin until he met his gaze. “I care about you too.”

More embarrassment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Keith smiled. A small thing with big implications. 

“Let's at least get some sleep. We can clean up in the morning.”

Keith nodded and let Shiro lead him to the bed.

 

/////////

 

Morning found Keith tangled up in Shiro's arms. Actually, Keith wasn't sure it was morning. The sky was always the same in The Dreaming and time ran a bit slower. 

If it decided to pass at all.

He let his eyes wander down the body wound around his. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips as he studied every dip and plain of Shiro's body. He brushed a bit of silver hair back into place and his mind wandered. 

What would it be like to have this?

To wake up like this?

He sighed contentedly and ran a finger across the bridge of Shiro's nose. These were stolen moments. 

Men like Keith didn't get this sort of thing. But if he could stop Sendak, maybe Shiro could. 

Somehow. 

Keith would make sure.

“You look happy, little star.” Krolia was seated in the window. Legs drawn up to her chest and head against the glass.

Keith frowned and shifted. He slid out from under Shiro's arm and pulled the comforter tighter around his waist. 

Krolia smiled and turned toward the window. Keith snatched open a dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. Cain could bitch at him later. “I thought you hated it here.”

“I do.”

Keith pulled the drawstrings as tight as he could and walked towards the door. Krolia stood in the hallway when he opened it. She followed him toward the stairs. “It's been a few hours there. But people are looking for Shiro. And… there's been another murder.”

He stopped midway down the stairs. “When?”

“He's just finished.”

“How do you-”

“Lance. He's tracking him.”

Keith continued walking. The scent of coffee drew him into the kitchen. Matt was standing smugly over an antique percolator with a steaming mug in hand. His smile faltered when he caught sight of Keith in the doorway. 

“Hey,” Keith shifted his weight.

“Hey.”

The silence was heavy. 

Krolia tsked. “We don't have time for this. Apologize.”

Keith opened his mouth to speak; but Matt beat him to it. “How's Shiro?”

“G-Good. He's fine. I think.”

Matt hummed and sipped his coffee. “We can't keep him here, Keith.”

“Why not?”

“People are going to be looking for him. For  _ us.  _ We have a job to do.” He reached into a cabinet and grabbed a mug. He poured as he spoke. “I've been thinking about what he said. About you trying to protect me.” He offered the mug to Keith.  

An olive branch Keith was happy to accept. 

“It makes sense,” Matt continued, “All the dumb shit you do, all the dumb shit you've done, you take it on yourself. Even your mom.” He leaned back against the counter. “Remember when I got a ticket for racing and you told Dad it was you?”

Keith laughed. “Yeah. What was it? Like 70 in a 35?”

Matt laughed. “I was so scared the entire time.”

“I kept telling you to go faster.”

“I thought we were gonna die.”

Keith hummed into his mug. The coffee was awful. Stale and burnt. It was obvious Matt had no idea how to use the percolator. But he drank it down. He looked over at his brother. 

Matt wasn't the skinny, nerd with too much brain and not enough confidence he was when they met. He was taller than Keith. Hair long. Body strong. Face scarred by a perp with a razor blade. 

No, Matthew Samuel Holt was the boy he used to be. He was a good man. He was capable. 

Keith sighed. “Look, I'm sorry.”

Matt arched an eyebrow but stayed silent. 

“I know we're not kids anymore.”

“ _ I’m  _ not.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I know you can handle yourself. And that is why I trust you to do what we need to do to get this done.” He swallowed a bitter drink and set the mug down. “Tell them Shiro is recovering at his parents’. Use Lance and Pidge to find the next target.”

“What about you?”

“I'm going to visit Lotor’s father’s estate. Without him there. I need to verify that he is the puppet.”

“And Shiro?”

“I'm taking him with me.”

“What?”

“St. Catherine's ring is here. I’ll borrow it for now.”

“And what will that do?”

“Unless Shiro uses his powers, neither side will be able to sense him.”

“You mean to tell me that Takashi “I have literally had powers for less than a day” Shirogane is supposed to waltz into a possible serial killer's mansion and not used said powers if danger arises?”

“Yes.”

“Not to mention we don't even  _ know _ what powers he has?”

“Trust me, Matt. I know what I'm doing.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost: I am so so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out.  
> I have been having a tremendously hard time lately and sick on top of it.  
> Thank you for sticking around. Your kudos, comments and support mean so much.  
> Also, I have to thank my amazing amazing Beta [CryptidKickFlip](https://twitter.com/cryptidkickflip?s=09) for all of his help and support.  
> And finally, I ended up gathering so many songs for Original Sins that I made a playlist.  
> This is not in order or anything just a bunch of songs that play into the ambiance of the fic. Listen if ya want [Listen Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/hwade85/playlist/6ZTrEqoBxXsYqkWBGfvKaG?si=vBB-tSRHSpaJigV4e9bN1w)

Keith had no idea what he was doing.

He leaned his head against the bedroom door and took a deep breath. Normally, he could fake the confidence he needed to make a plan work. 

Normally. 

But Shiro wasn’t normal. 

He was the most powerful empath Keith had ever met. He didn’t just sense feelings and intent, he  _ felt  _ them. 

And last night… Fuck. 

Keith could feel his hands on Shiro’s body as he felt Shiro’s on him. 

Taste himself on Shiro’s tongue. 

Felt the burn and desire of the other. The reverence for everything he’d give him. 

It was intense. 

Desire rolled through him.

Did Shiro even realize he was doing it?

Probably not. 

And damn if that wasn’t endearing. 

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice from beyond the door brought him back to the present. 

He had to keep Shiro safe. And the best way to do that was to keep him next to him. 

For the time being. 

He rolled the ring in his palm. 

Shiro needed to be calm to keep his powers, whatever they are, in check. 

So Keith needed to be calm.  Rational. 

Professional.

He took a deep breath and pushed to door open. 

But the image of Shiro tangled in the sheets knocked the air back out. 

“H-Hey.”

Shiro nuzzled a pillow and smiled. “Hey.” He sat up slowly and leaned against the headboard. “What time is it?”

Keith’s throat was suddenly very dry. “Eeeehh…”

Shiro’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “You know,” he slung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Keith watched as he moved across the room. The very embodiment of Asmodeus himself. 

Shiro cupped Keith’s face and hovered over his lips. “You know I can feel that, right?” He tilted his head. A soft glow lit his amber eyes. “Keith, am I going crazy?” 

Keith licked his lip and Shiro pulled his tongue into his mouth. Keith moaned into his mouth and pushed up on his toes. Their mouths crashed together. It was too hard. Too fast. 

But  _ goddamn it _ Keith loved it.

His lust hazed mind registered the soft thud of the ring falling to ground. But he could remember why it was important with Shiro’s hardening cock against his bare abdomen.

Shiro moved from Keith’s mouth to his ear. Teeth grazed the lobe as he spoke, “Is it just you? Would I feel this with anyone?” He rolled his hips rubbing his cock along Keith’s abs and let out a deep moan. “Fuck… K-Keith…”

Keith closed his eyes and summoned all the willpower he had. “Shiro,” he panted out and cupped the other’s face in his hands. He guided him from his neck until their eyes met. 

Shiro furrowed his brows. “Keith?”

Keith pressed his lips together and steadied his breathing. “I don’t know, Shiro. I don’t know if you’re feeling your feelings or mine or how it would be with someone else.” The admission tasted bitter on his tongue. “I can’t let you keep going unless you know it’s you and not me. I can’t, Takashi. I won’t.”

Shiro pressed their foreheads together. “Keith…”

Keith pulled him into his arms. He rubbed comforting circles along the base of his spin. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was breathy, tight. “I didn’t mean it like that. I-” He stood straight and guided Keith’s hands to his hips. He let out a sigh and brushed a hand through Keith’s loose hair. “I may not know what’s going on with this.” He waved a hand. “But Keith,” he dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’ve wanted you, I’ve been drawn to you since I laid eyes on you.”

Keith couldn’t swallow over the lump in his throat. 

He couldn’t speak. 

How can this be real? How could  _ Shiro _ be real? 

And with him?

He squeezed his eyes closed. 

It was only temporary. 

No attachments.

He wanted it though. He wanted more than anything.

Shiro pulled him into his chest. Keith rubbed his face against the warm skin and fought against his growing emotion. He fought against the burning tears brimming out of the corners of his eyes. He fought against the inevitability of it all. 

Shiro cradled him against his chest. He pressed his lips against Keith’s hair. “I don’t know how I would feel around other people, but you… Touching you feels like breathing.”

Keith took a shaky breath. “I know,” his voice cracked with restrained emotion, “I-I…”

Shiro’s arms tightened around him. 

“Shiro, I feel the s-”

A loud knock sounded through the room. 

“Hey!” Matt called from outside the door. “Are you ready to go?”

Keith felt like screaming. He made a mental note to strangle his brother after all this was over. 

Shiro frowned at the door.

“Just hold on,” Keith stepped out of Shiro's arms. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Are we going somewhere?” Shiro watched his movements. 

“Yeah, I-” The ring. He looked around until he saw the band on the ground. He snatched it up in a fluid motion. “I have something for you.” He presented the plain bronze band. 

Shiro looked at him and then the ring and back again. “Keith?”   
Heat flooded his face. “No! I mean… Shiro, you’re great! Really. Like fucking fantastic and I -Shit! Look, this is not an engagement ring! It’s a wedding band!”

“Keith, you-”

“I don’t want to marry you!” he blurted it out with far more force than necessary. 

They stared at each other. Seconds ticked by in silence. Keith filled the time imagining his own death.

“Can I come in?” Matt called from the other side of the door.

Neither moved.

“Guys?” 

Finally, Shiro broke. He stepped back and grabbed his pants off the floor. “Hold on, Matt.”

Keith slowly lowered his arm. “Shiro, I-”

The other opened the door. 

Matt pushed into the room. “So, do you guys just not wear shirts now?”

Keith glared at him. 

Matt ignored him.

“I need to shower,” Shiro glanced at Keith again and disappeared into the bathroom.

  
  
  


////////////////

 

Shiro closed his eyes and leaned his head against the slick tile. Hot water sluiced over his body. But it did nothing to ease his tightness in his chest.

He knew what he felt. 

Didn’t he?

He thought back to that first moment he’d seen Keith. Eyes closed, head back on the bricks.... Even then, it was there. That current. That livewire that connected them.

He felt that on his own. 

All this did was let him know that he wasn’t the only one. 

Every moment he spent with Keith was charged by it. Their first kiss had been inevitable. 

And every touch since binding. 

This was more than empathy. But it was still more than him alone.

It didn’t change. 

He wanted Keith now just as much as he had before. Desperately. Inexorably.

Shiro had to tell him. 

He switched the shower off as the door burst open. A ball of nervous determination swept into the room. The shower curtain was pulled back suddenly and Shiro could only stare at Keith as he stood in front of him.

“K-Keith?”

The other man held the ring out and grabbed Shiro’s hand. He placed it in the wet palm and closed the fingers around it. “Shiro,” Keith sounded breathless, “That is for protection. You’re coming with me to see Zarkon. And that ring will help keep you safe.”

Shiro nodded. All words had evaporated like steam.

“And,” Keith continued, “I really fucking like you. You-you’re amazing and if I got to marry you, I’d be really damn lucky. Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Okay. And I like fucking you and I  _ wanted _ to fuck you, but I coul-”

Shiro’s brain finally caught up. “Keith, it wasn’t just you.”

“What?”

“I mean… Keith, I meant what I said. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. This hasn’t changed that.”

“But how do you know it isn’t just my feelings?”

“Because,” Shiro shifted forward. He pulled Keith’s hip toward him. “I felt it before. It’s just stronger now. It’s more certain.” They were centimeters apart now. “Intense.”

Keith swallowed.

Shiro’s lips ghosted over his. “Cause I know you want it too. You can’t hide how you feel anymore.” He brushed their lips together. Just a touch. A sweep. 

But it sparked.

“Shiro,” his eyes fluttered, “I’m scared.”

There it was.

“I know, baby.” Shiro pressed their foreheads together. “Me too.”

A rush of affection wrapped around them. From both of them.

“You guys know that I’m still here, right?” Matt called from bedroom.

Shiro couldn’t suppress a laugh. And Keith couldn’t suppress a curse. 

  
  


If Shiro had to guess, he’d estimate that it took two more hours before they finally left the house. Maybe longer. 

The search to find Keith clothing had been excruciating. Everything that the mysterious owner had there was far too large. Except a couple of random skirts, a leather mini dress and a pair of Soul of Nomad jeans.

Keith refused it all.

Until finally, Matt was able to convince his brother that the skin tight jeans were definitely  _ not _ women’s. 

They definitely were.

They looked amazing.

Shiro could only bite his lip and nod when Keith looked over his shoulder and asked if he looked ok.

Shiro took the opportunity to appreciate the way they clung to his legs and ass as they walked down the street in the morning light. 

Apparently the day they’d spent in the house had seen only a few hours pass in the rest of the word. So it was mid-morning by the time the Uber dropped them off in Ladue at some red brick church that looked more like a country club than a place of worship.

“Keith, I don’t understand why we couldn’t just,” Shiro made waving motions with his hands that he hoped looked like a circle. 

Keith gave a sigh. “Your powers aren’t the only ones they can feel. They know who’s calling or travelling. Generally, nobody gives a damn, but when you’re harboring an illegal being, it’s best to keep a low profile.”

“So, better that a gardener calls the cops than we risk it?”

Keith stepped off the path into a thick grove of trees. “Cops don’t have angel blades. Besides,” he looked over his shoulder, “You’re a cop. Just show ‘em your badge.”

“It doesn’t really work like that. Especially not here.”

Keith dismissed the worry with a wave. “We’re just gonna have to do it the old fashioned way.”

“Which is?”   
Keith stopped and faced him. “Charm.” He winked.

Shiro smiled despite himself. He gave in to the urge to run a hand over the tight black denim cupping Keith’s ass as he walked past the other taking the lead. He could feel Keith’s amusement and desire as they crunched through the fall leaves. 

The groves had become a ‘necessity’ for privacy in Ladue. Gates and fences aren’t ‘the image’ that community wanted. But the trees and long driveways were meant to deter gawkers. But it suited their needs just fine. 

Eventually they emerged from the copse behind a two story red brick building. But it became clear that it was only the servants’ quarters as their attention was swept to the imposing building before them. Pea gravel crunched under foot as they drew closer to the front terrace. 

“It has spires, Shiro. What kind of pretentious dick has a house with spires?” Keith worked his fingers opened and closed as they walked. 

“It has a dome,” Shiro added with a laugh. 

“Even if he weren’t the killer, we should kill him based on gaudiness alone.”

“So you’re sure he’s the killer now?”

“The vessel is here. I can feel it.”

Shiro reached for the chain around his neck. The ring dangled against his chest. He prayed that it did its job. “Should I feel anything?”

Keith considered. “I don't know. But don't try.”

“I won’t.”

Keith brushed his fingers along the back of Shiro’s hand and walked ahead. He straightened his back and took a deep breath. “Just follow along and don’t speak.”

“Wait-”

Shiro was cut off by Keith’s knocks. He pulled his hair over his shoulder and pushed his shoulders back.  He knocked again. 

“Keith-”

A stone faced butler opened the door. “May I-?”

To Shiro’s astonishment, Keith pushed past the man and strode into the foyer. “Finally,” Keith gasped out in an unplaceable accent and flung his hand out in exasperation. “I cannot  _ believe _ you would keep us waiting like this.” He turned to Shiro and made grabby hands. “Sven, darling, come along.”

The butler’s grey eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “May I help you?”

Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and pulled him close. He looped his arm around Shiro’s. “We are here to help  _ you _ . Lotor asked that Sven create a custom piece in honor of his father. Didn’t he,  ӓlskling?” Keith ran the back of his hand down Shiro’s cheek. Which was reddening by the second. 

“I wasn’t aware, Mr. Lotor had commissioned your services, Mr. Holm.” The butler gave a stiff smile. “I’m afraid that I didn’t recognize you immediately. My apologies.”

Keith’s smile never faltered. “It’s the hair. He changed it for me.” He gave Shiro a playful pat on the ass. “Sven’s  _ very _ accomodating to my needs.” 

Shiro barely suppressed a squeak. 

“Now then,” Keith tugged Shiro toward a grand staircase. Dark wood covered in rich brass colored carpeting. “You’ll allow us to look around? To find the essence of the man? To capture his sjӓl?”

“Of course,” the butler turned sharply. “I’ll phone Mr. Lotor to notify him of your arrival.”

“Ja, ja, ja.” Keith waved his hand and guided Shiro up the steps. 

As soon as the man was out of sight, Keith detached his arm. “We don’t have a lot of time.” 

Shiro’s tongue failed to form words. He simply stuttered. 

“What?”

“You-you can’t just-” he sighed. “Nevermind. Can you tell where the vessel is?”   
“Yeah,” Keith paused at the top of the staircase and looked left. “That way.”

Shiro followed him down the hall. Chocolate colored walled covered in red and gold tapestries guided them further. 

A set of arched double doors waited at the end of the hallway. An uneasy feeling emanating from behind the glossy black paint. 

“This is it,” Keith spoke quietly. He glanced back at Shiro. A flicker of doubt was extinguished before Shiro could be certain that’s what it was. “Stay behind me and if anything happens, I’ll open a portal.”   
“But won’t they be able to find you?”   
“It doesn’t matter. If I open it, go through it. Okay?”   
“Not without you.”

“Shiro… Please, I-”

He cut him off with a kiss. “Not without you.”

Keith leveled his gaze and licked his lips. “Okay.” 

Shiro nodded and let him go.

Keith stepped back toward the doors. He gripped the left knob and turned it. The door was silent as it opened. The room was a large. Larger than he’d expected. And full of shadow and vague shapes. The soft glow of a henna lamp glinted off the brass and gold of seemingly forgotten relics. The smell oud and tobacco floated on the air. 

Keith moved silently through the dark leading Shiro further into den. The ring has dulled the impact of the empathy, but every object had its own aura. But nothing compared to whatever lay before them. 

Even with the ring around his neck, Shiro could feel the malevolence beckoning just ahead. Heavy velvet fingers tugging at his mind. “Keith.” Even in a whisper his voice sounded too loud to his own ears. “Stop. Something’s in here. Something bad.”

Keith didn’t look back. “I know.” He pressed ahead. 

Shiro bit back a curse and followed him. He strained his eyes in the dark. 

What was drawing them in? 

He could make out intangible tendrils floating through the shadows that surrounded them. They beckoned to him through hazy caresses toward an unlit fireplace with a high back chair in front of it. A flickering mix of orange and red from a flickering Moroccan lamp played across the dark leather. A large figure was moved in the chair. 

The springs in the furniture protested as the chair swiveled and the figure faced them. A movement on the armrest and the fireplace roared to life behind him. A metallic glint caught on a lattice worked canister in his lap. 

The source of the energy. 

Partially.

This was not a good man. 

The hulking figure, now backlit by firelight, leaned back. Predatory eyes, jaundiced by the amber glow, narrowed at them. A sharp slit of thin lips formed a mocking smile. “I admit,” an imperious voice spoke, “I didn’t think you’d take such a direct approach, Mr. Kogane.” Throaty laughter followed. 

“Zarkon?” Keith lifted his chin when he spoke, “I see melodrama is genetic.” He feigned nonchalance and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You have something of mine.”

Zarkon hummed in agreement. He held out the canister. Tarnished copper and faux jewels shaped in a squat cylinder. 

Keith hesitated. 

“Take it,” Zarkon goaded. “You’ll find it undamaged.”

Slowly Keith moved forward. Long fingers wrapped around the container and he pulled it against his chest. 

Zarkon laughed. 

Shiro was on edge. This isn’t what he expected. 

This was not a good man. At all.

But… Even with the dampening effects of the ring, he knew the malevolence from the canister was not the same as the indecency of the man. 

Keith looked the vesel over in the firelight. “What’s the catch?”

Zarkon shrugged. “Smarter than my son has made you out to be, aren’t you?” Another chuckle. “Simple, Mr. Kogane. Very simple. This is a simple piece. Worth no more than a few hundred dollars.”

“So?”

“So…” Zarkon templed his fingers, “Why would you go to so much trouble for it? What was in it?”

Shiro saw the moment that it dawned on Keith. He schooled his features quickly. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing.”

Zarkon leaned forward. “Then why the duct tape?”   
“Duct tape?”

His thin lips pulled tighter and his smile grew. “The duct tape securing the lid. It was cut when I received it. What was in it?”

Keith’s dread hit Shiro. His body tingled with anticipation. 

Fuck. 

Was it adrenaline? His powers? 

He couldn’t tell. 

They needed to go.

Now.

“Keith,” Shiro swallowed, “It’s time we got back.”

Zarkon cut to him, eyebrow arched. “I’m a businessman.  _ All _ kinds of business.” He looked back at Keith.  “I will not hesitate to eliminate anything or anyone that puts my son in danger. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Kogane?”

“Very.” Keith gripped the canister. 

Zarkon smiled tightly and leaned back. “Good.” He swiveled back toward the fireplace. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

 

////////

 

They were back in the treeline before Shiro caught Keith by the shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “You know what this means.”

It wasn't a question. 

Keith hesitated. “We need to get to the others.”

“Keith,” Shiro searched his face, “Tell me what's going on.”

Keith chewed his bottom lip. “It's dangerous to talk here. We have to go.” He gripped Shiro's hand and pulled him forward. 

And Shiro-patient, beautiful, Shiro-didn’t push. 

Not when Keith picked the lock to the church so they could wait inside for the Uber.  

Not when they rode for 45 minutes in silence back to Keith’s apartment. 

Not when he twined their fingers together in elevator. 

Not even when Keith kissed him so long that the elevator doors closed twice. 

Keith's mind was made up.

They entered the apartment to find Lance and Pidge huddled around a stack of books and Matt clacking away on the computer. The dusky scent of amber and cinnamon incense wafted on the brassy croon of Chico O’Farrill’s trumpets. Three sets of eyes followed Keith as he set the wards on the doorframe. 

Lance is the first to speak. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”   
Keith responded with his own question. “Did you ward the windows?” He moved across the room shedding his jacket and hopping over books. 

Matt looked to Shiro. “What did you guys find out?”   
Shiro shrugged. “It isn’t Zarkon.”

“What?”   
Keith flipped open his knife. “It was all a set up.” He sliced along his palm. Deeper. Harsher than last time. He dabbed the pooling blood onto his fingertips and began working it onto the window frames. “It was a trap.”

Lance and Pidge exchanged worried looks. Lance slowly closed his book. “What are you talking about, man?”

Keith didn’t look away from his task. “Sendak knows I know now.”

“What do you know?” Pidge stood and placed her hand on his arm stopping his manic motions. “Keith, we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”   
“The only way to help me now is to take Shiro back to the House. You too. Get whatever you need and go to the House. I’ll open a portal when you’re ready.” He fisted his bleeding hand and turned toward his bedroom. Blood patted on the floor as he walked. 

Shiro followed. 

Keith lit a cigarette as he entered. Blood smeared along the filter and dripped down his arm. He fixed his eyes on his lover and set his jaw. “What do you need before you go?”

Shiro shook his head slowly and closed the door behind him. “I’m not going.”

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I-I can’t… I don’t know what else to do at this point.” He looked away. “If they find out about-about what you are now? I mean, he knows because you were with me, but he doesn’t know what you are because that was before.” He turned toward the balcony doors and began smearing blood along the trim. 

Shiro made his way through the boxes and crates to the door. He pressed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re not making sense, Keith.”

A ragged breath pulled from his throat. “Takashi…” He squeezed his eyes closed. “It’s me he’s after.”

“Sendak? I know that you have-”

Keith pressed his bloodied fingers to Shiro’s lips and shook his head. “Not just him.”   
Shiro arched a questioning brow.

Keith chewed his bottom lip. “It’s Lotor, Shiro. He’s the puppet. He’s the killer. It’s been him the whole time.” He took a drag smearing more blood along his jaw. “I don’t know what he’s got planned exactly, but I have to make sure you’re protected.” 

Shiro watched with concern as Keith smeared his cut across the glass in a circle. The sunlight shone through the crimson stains like a macabre suncatcher.  Keith dashed to the closet and pulled a feather and bag of powder from the darkness. 

“Keith, what are you doing?” Shiro watched him mix the powder with his blood in an empty glass. “Talk to me.”   
Keith ignored him and stirred the mixture with his knife blade. He moved back to the window and dipped the feather in the glass. He painted a series of zags and swirls before turning back to Shiro. 

Keith ignored the tugging in his chest as he looked at Shiro’s golden’s eyes. He swallowed hard and dropped the cigarette in a tin collection plate. He dabbed the feather in the bloody concoction once more and placed hand on Shiro’s cheek pulling him close. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Keith ached at the contact. 

He brushed the feather across Shiro’s forehead forming the sigil of Azrael. He moved his hands to the back of Shiro’s neck. The warmth of the other’s breath ghosting across his lips as he took the chain in hands. 

And snapped it.

Shiro let out a small gasp and he searched over Keith’s face for some kind of answer. 

Keith looked away and lit the feather with his hand. Blue flame danced along the vane. And with a shaking breath he summoned the Archangel of Death. “Azrael, yada`.”

No fanfare.

No trumpets.

Just a shift in the atmosphere and there he stood. Tall and golden eyed in a crisp dark suit, Azrael eyed Keith with annoyance. “Kogane, I hope you have a good excuse for this.” His voice was deep and lilted with a lyrical accent. His eyes flicked to Shiro and glowed faintly. “I see. You’re surrendering the nephil.”

“Not so fast,” Keith stepped forward. “I want to make a deal.” Shiro reached out to him, but Keith moved again. “I want you take him on your side. Keep him safe. Alive.”

Azrael’s perfect face remained impassive. “Why would I do that? Especially after our last encounter.”

“Because,” Keith held his knife out to the angel, the small purple gem in the handle winked in the sunshine, “I’ll give you Krolia’s soul. I’ll let her pass over with you.”

“Keith!” Shiro moved toward him, but froze in place with the wave of Azrael’s hand.

Keith’s fingers shook as he offered the knife to the angel. Tears burned the corners of his eyes. “Call off the Powers and recruit Shiro. In exchange, you get my mother’s soul and I’ll exorcise Sendak. Do we have a deal?”

Azrael hummed. “You’re going to die, Hellblazer. Probably soon. I wonder what kind of deal you’ll be making then…”

Keith tightened his grip. “Do we have a deal or not?”

“Hhhmmm…” he smiled slowly. Perfect tiles of teeth framed by plush, pink lips. “You love the nephil. How interesting.” His eyes shone and he extended a hand. “We have an accord, Kogane.”

Keith slid a sticky, crimson hand into his grip. A flash of golden light and then… Keith was alone.

The dam broke. His knees buckled and tears escaped their dams and cut clean trails down his bloodied face.

Shiro was gone.

Krolia was gone.

And Sendak was coming.

And Keith… Keith was alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out.   
> I have to give props to my amazing server, especially Oli for being the best.  
> I spread myself a bit thin over the last month.  
> I appreciate you all so much and every kudos and comment means the world.
> 
> Without further ado:

“What did you do, Keith?” 

Keith started. He whipped around to face the doorway. Lance stood in the threshold with fists clenched and brows drawn. “What did you do?” he repeated. 

Keith looked away staring into the distance beyond the balcony. He scrubbed a hand across his face and tried to swallow down the sob lodged in his throat. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to ground himself. 

“Answer me,” Lance demanded from behind. He was closer now. Anger and fear rolled off his body. 

But it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Shiro’s safety. Krolia’s peace. 

“Maldita sea, Keith! Respóndeme!” Lance grabbed Keith’s shoulder. Keith pulled out his grasp and scrambled to his feet. 

Lance’s eyes widened as he took the other in. “Wh-?”

“Get the fuck off of me!” Keith gripped the blade in his hand. The missing jewel left a discolored bronze oval that glinted in the sun and caught Lance’s eye.

“Krolia…” His gaze fell on the door on the sigil painted on the glass. “No…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Where is Shiro?”

Keith looked away. “He’s safe.” With a shaking hand, he reached for his cigarettes. He was aware of Lance’s gaze as he opened the pack and pulled on out with his teeth. 

“Tell me what you did.”

Keith took his time. He lit the cigarette, inhaled slowly, let smoke pour over the words he spoke, “I made a deal.”

Lance paled. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Did what?” Matt pushed into the room with Pidge behind him. “Where’s Shiro? We’re ready to take him to the House.”   
Keith took another drag and turned away. “He’s not going.”

“Who did you make a deal with, Keith?” Lance demanded. 

Matt’s eyes grew wide. 

PIdge gasped. 

Keith took a drag. “Azrael.”

“Jesus,” Matt murmured, “Isn’t he-? I mean, your mom-”

“He has her too.”

“What the fuck, Keith?” Lance’s voice tinged panic. “What the hell were you thinking? You gave him Krolia? And Shiro? You gave them to the goddam archangel of death? The spirit courier?”

“You gave him Shiro?” Matt moved closer. He staggered as he tripped over a box of Vatican rosaries. “Wh-What does he mean? What do you mean?”

Keith stared at the gash in his palm. Dark blood oozed from the wound. The edges curled under displaying the thing layer of fat underneath. He could heal it. Should heal it. A hand on his shoulder pulled him back. 

“Keith!” Matt’s face was a mask of concern “Where’s Shiro?”

“I gave him to the Light under the condition that they let him live and recruit him.”

Matt let go and stepped back. “And what? Shiro was fine with this?”

Keith chewed his lip.

“You just sent him away? You didn’t even give him a chance?”   
Keith’s anger surged. “I had to!”

“No, you didn’t! He wanted to stay! He wanted to help!”

“He couldn’t!”

“Why not? Huh? You don’t need him? You don’t need any of us? Keith Kogane, the Hellblazer. The Magician. Feared by the Light and the Dark. You’re just too fucking good. You don’t need anyone else.”

“Shut up, Matt.”

“You just come back when it’s convenient. You get what you need and then it’s ‘sayonara, suckers’! Cuz you’ve got shit to do.”

“Matt!” Pidge called from the doorway. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Stop it!”

“No!” Matt’s anger was palpable. “I’m sick of this! You are too! He’s using us, Katie. Just like Mom and Dad.”

“Matt,” Keith’s voice was flat.

“Just like Lance!”

“Stop.”

“Just like Acxa! And now Shiro!”

Keith’s fist seemed to move on its own. But instead of making contact with Matt's face, Keith spun around and connected with the thick glass of the balcony door. A loud crack cut through the stunned silence. Fresh blood dripped down the door forming red rivers as the blood filled in the cracks.

A choked noise escaped Keith's throat, but he made no move. Instead he spoke. A whisper of confession pulled from his chest. “ I love him, Matt.” He pulled his fist back slowly. He turned and faced his brother. “I'm in love with Shiro.” A fresh tear slid free. “He wouldn’t run. He wouldn't go to the House. He wanted to stay. But I-” a sob “I can’t let him get hurt. Not because of me. None of you, Matt. You’re my family. If I’m here too much, then you’ll get hurt too. And it’s all my fault. Because of who I am.” He wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Because of  _ what  _ I am. I have to keep you safe. I because I love you.” Tears flowed freely now. His wiry frame shaking with the force of the emotions breaking free. 

A blur of green and at least two spilled boxes found Pidge bounding into Keith’s lap. She wrapped him in her arms and cried. “Keith! I love you too! Don’t you get that? You’re such a fucking idiot!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Lance grumbled and kneeled next to them. “She’s right. You’re a dumbass.” He laughed as Pidge reached out wiped a tear from his cheek with her sleeve. She pulled him into the hug and nuzzled into his shoulder.

Matt huffed. “I’m still pissed.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood closer. “I mean…” He sighed and kicked Keith’s boot. 

Keith looked up.

“I love you too, fuckhead.”

Keith smiled crookedly. “You too, cocksucker.”

Matt laughed and blinked back tears. “You’re the cocksucker.”

Keith shrugged and Pidge smacked them both. They laughed harder. She joined in. So did Lance. 

“Fine,” Matt finally said. “But what are we going to do?”

 

///////////////////

 

Shiro’s eyes stung. His ears rang. His body ached. He halfway expected to wake up on a cold dungeon floor. Instead, he was sprawled on an overstuffed double mattress wrapped in crisp linens. 

His eyes snapped open. 

Aside from the bed, which he now saw was draped in a gauzy grey canopy, there was a white Chesterfield covered in throw pillows, a matching dressing table, and a wall of floor to ceiling windows with a sliding door. Slowly, Shiro sat up. He blinked at the sunlight and pushed the comforter aside.

That’s when he saw that his clothes were changed. Well, his pants anyway. All that he had on was a loose pair of black linen pants. 

noted that the door was cracked open. Carefully, he slung his long legs over the edge of the bed and stood. He  padded across the cold marble floor to the door. And slid it open enough for him to slide through onto a white stone balcony that overlooked the water. 

Shiro’d been to the ocean exactly twice and both times in a small coastal town in Alabama during hurried Spring Breaks before Kuron was sent to the hospital. The Gulf had been beautiful in its own way. But the water had been dark and the cold. The waves too high and water too rough. The air smelled like mud and decay.

But this… As his eyes adjusted to the sunshine, he realized that this was unlike any water that he’d ever seen. He leaned over the edge of the stone railing and watched as the cerulean waves lazily lapped at the ancient white stones that built the coastline. The air smelled fresh and salty. Everything was timeworn and elegant. 

And completely unfamiliar. 

Shiro swallowed hard. Where was he? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was…

“Keith!” He turned suddenly and dashed back into the room. His bare feet slapped on the marble as he moved toward the slate colored door. “Keith!” He grabbed the lever. It was locked. He turned back toward the balcony. Maybe he could climb down…

The air shifted around him and a tall golden eyed man suddenly stood in front of Shiro. Azrael. The angel smiled slowly. “I see you’re awake, lion cub.” 

“Let me go.”

Azrael slid his hands into the pockets of this dark dress pants and casually walked toward the balcony. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. I’ve made a deal. I’m bound.”

Shiro followed him. “I didn’t make a deal. I never agreed to this. Send me back.”

“No.” He stepped outside. 

Again Shiro followed. “You can’t keep me here. I’m a police-”   
“Pfft,” Azrael laughed and leaned over the railing. His long auburn hair curled around his perfect features as he looked over the sea. “Police officer. How bloody perfect. You really are his son, aren’t you?”

“You knew my father?”

“I  _ know  _ him.” He turned around and leaned his back against the stone. “Tell me, lion cub. What do you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. What do you know?”   
“About?”   
“The circumstances of your birth? Your brother’s death?”   
“You knew about us.”

Azrael hummed. “I did.”

“But you let us live?”

“I did.”

“Are you my father?”

“No, no, no,” he laughed, “In fact, your father is The Lion of God himself.”

“Then why would you help us?”

“What can I say? I loved your father. I love him still. He asked my help to hide you. So, I sealed your powers away. As most as I could.” He shrugged. “Of course some things were inevitable. Seeing the dead. Reading energies. Those are simple, little things. Humans could do them if they are touched by the Light” he quirked a smile “Or the Dark.” He stood up straight. “But you were safe. Especially you. You… You wanted nothing to do with it. Your suppression was better than anything I had hoped. Until you decided to go to war.” He gave Shiro’s prosthetic a lingering look. “Your near death broke your hold, loosened my binding, on your power. And then you met the Hellblazer.”

“I need to get back to him. Please. If you loved my father, then you have to understand. I have to get back to Keith. He needs my help.”

“Even if I hadn’t made the deal, I wouldn’t send you back.”

“But-”

“You’re not understanding, Takashi. Your-”

“No, it’s  _ you _ who isn’t understanding,” Shiro stepped closer to the angel. “I’m going to get back to him with or without your help.”

Azrael’s eyes glowed dimly then faded back to amber. “You will not.”   
“Watch me.” Shiro turned and came face to face with a tall, black haired man. He stopped short.

The man’s eyes glowed and his plush lips parted. “B’nee…” He stepped forward with his hand out.

Shiro stepped back. 

He hesitated. Doubt colored his features and he pulled his arm back. 

Azrael came from behind and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Takashi,” he smiled at Shiro “I’d like you to meet your father.”

 

/////////////////

 

“Dad?” Matt pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Mom?”

Pidge pushed Keith forward. He stumbled up the threshold and into the living room. The walls were still the color of a chocolate milkshake covered in too many pictures. Ferns and flower pots overflowed in the windowsill. The furniture was new, but it was that same rich brown with the same ancient afgan slung over the back. Popular Mechanics and Scientific American were piled on the end table next to a row of succulents in poorly made pinch pots. A sloppy name painted on each one.    
Pidge.

Matt. 

Keith…

Memories assaulted Keith everywhere he looked. Each photo, every knick-knack, they all held one. And each one was a piece this life. 

A life he’d loved. That he’d feared.

That’d he run away from. 

It all seemed like too much. 

“In the kitchen!”  Colleen’s voice called as Matt toed his sneakers off. 

“We have a surprise for you!” Pidge nudged Keith further inside and shut the door.

“A surprise?” Colleen laughed from the other room.

Keith felt frozen to the spot. Colleen’s laugh was the background music to so many of his precious few happy memories. His throat was tight and his fists clenched. “I can’t do this,” he croaked. He tried to step backwards, but Matt put an arm around his shoulder and guided him further into the living room. 

“Keith,” Pidge whispered from the other side. “You’re ok.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “We’re your family. We love you.”

He looked back to the archway that separated the dining room from the living room. Colleen was humming to herself as she walked into the room. “So what’s this-” She froze. The planter in her hands crashed to the ground coating the oatmeal colored carpet in rich black soil. “Keith…”

Distantly a man’s voice called her name. But she ignored it as she staggered forward. “Keith…. You’re here. You’re here.”

Tears burned the back of Keith’s eyes. “Hi, Col.”

She suddenly closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. After a moment of shock, Keith returned the hug. Colleen sobbed against his chest and he squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m here,” he managed. “I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

“We didn’t know. We didn’t know what happened to you,” she cried. “Oh honey, we love you so much.”

“Colleen!” the man’s voice called again. Closer.

Tears dropped from Keith’s cheeks into Colleen’s soft short hair. “I’m so sorry, Colleen. Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Colleen! Are you-?” the man’s voice cut off. 

Colleen pulled out of Keith’s embrace and faced her husband. “Sam! Sam, it’s Keith. It’s Keith!”

Sam stood still staring at the four of them. His hand braced on the back of the couch and his mouth open. “Keith?”

Keith cleared his throat. “Sam…” Shame colored his cheeks and looked away. “I’m-I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together. He’d told Sam he’d never see him again. Never speak to him again. “I’m sorry, Sam.” He stepped forward and swallowed hard. “I know I can’t take back the shit I said before, but-”

Sam held his hand up to silence him and shook his head. 

Keith froze mid-stride. 

It hurt. It fucking hurt. He pressed his lips together and nodded to himself. 

Right. 

What did he expect? “I’ll uh… I’ll go.” He turned toward the door. 

A hand gripped his shoulder stopping him dead in his tracks.

Sam. 

He pulled Keith around and into a hug. “You have nothing to apologize for, Keith. Nothing at all.”

Sobs wretched themselves from Keith’s chest. He tucked his face into the older man’s shoulder and for once in his life, let himself feel. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” He cried harder. Another set of arms folded him into an embrace. And then another. And another. The entire Holt family held Keith in their arms. And he cried.  

He let himself feel everything that he’d been keeping inside for the last seven years.”i love you. I’m so sorry.” 

Afterall, this was his last night on earth. 

  
  


///////////////

  
  


Shiro stared at the man. “My-My…”

“Takashi,” the man stepped forward, but looked back at Azrael. “Takashi, I know you’re upset and confused, but I am your father.”

Shiro stepped back. 

He sighed and bit his lip. His golden eyes shone with unshed tears. “Please listen. I’m your father, Shiro. I met your mother when she was in the hospital. Angels are drawn to power. I was drawn to her. I watched her and listened to her prayers. She sang, Takashi. She sang. Her voice was so clear and beautiful.” A tear escaped his eye and rolled slowly down his flawless skin. “She was never mad, but they locked her in there and left her to rot.” He swallowed and looked back at Azrael again and who nodded. “I’m Ariel. I’m your father.” He stepped forward and pulled Shiro into an embrace. “And I’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

Shiro pushed out of the embrace. “No,” his voice was rough, “Where have you been? Where have you  _ been _ ? You left us there! You left Kuron there! You let him die!”

“Takashi I-”   
Hot tears poured from his eyes. “You did nothing! If you are this-” he flung his arm out “You are some righteous being and you let your son die! You let our mother die! And now you’re keeping me from Keith!” Shiro let something shift inside and he stepped forward til he was chest to chest with the man, “And so help me if he dies because of this-”

“Enough!” Azrael appeared between them. His eyes were glowing brightly and he voice shook and echoed off the stone. 

Ariel laid a hand on Azrael’s outstretched arm and shook his head. His long black hair fell across his face and his eyes softened. “Azrael…” he pressed his forehead to the other angel’s and sighed. Azrael placed a hand over Ariel’s and his body relaxed. The glow left his eyes. 

Ariel pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You of all people should understand how it feels to be forgotten by a father.”

Azrael frowned. “This is  _ not _ the same. He chose to deny us His presence. You didn’t have a choice, Ari.”

“To him it feels the same.”

Azrael looked back at Shiro and then back to Ariel. He patted his hand and walked away disappearing inside the room.

Ariel made no move to close the distance between Shiro and himself. Instead, he wiped his cheeks and turned toward the railing. He leaned his elbows on the carved stone. “I understand why you’re angry and I-” he cleared his throat “I wish that I could give you an answer that would fix it. But I cannot. I was kept away. We’ve broken every law to keep you two alive.”

Shiro took a tentative step toward the railing. “I want to go.”

“I know you do. But the Hellblazer made a deal to keep you away.”

“I don’t care. If you ever gave a damn about me, Ariel, just-just for a moment, then you’d let me go to him.”

Ariel hummed. “You’re willing to defy the will of the Light, of God, of the Hellblazer himself to get back to him?”

“I am.”

“Takashi,” the angel stood straight and turned to his son. He face an elegant mask of sadness,  He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Finally, he let out a breath and met Shiro’s gaze. “I want to keep you here. I want to teach you and learn about you… But I can’t force you to want to stay. When the deal was struck, you were conscripted to service for the Light.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not only a nephil, but you’re Chosen.” Ariel laid a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and looked down at him with a soft smile, “My son, you have had the power to leave since the moment you woke up.”

  
  


///////////////////////////////

  
  
  


Keith had lived so long freezing people out, that he had forgotten what it was like to feel warm until he’d met Shiro. And now, huddled on the floor in the Holt’s living room looking through old photos, he realized how frozen he’d become.

How much he missed out on.

How much he wished Shiro was here now. What would it had been like had they met sooner? Maybe in school or something. Like Sam and Colleen had. Become best friends and wake up one day and realize that you can’t life without him. 

Would they have gotten married? Bought a house? Fought over who did the dishes last?

Been normal?

All that boring, stupid shit that makes up life… 

He’d seen ghosts and demons and angels. He’d travelled the world and fought battles the rest of the world never even knew happened. Brought down cults and reunited families. 

But none of it compared to this. 

To the way Pidge giggled into her wine glass as Matt made fun of their father’s 90’s look. Or the way Sam assured his son that acid wash was  _ very _ hot at the time. And especially not to the way Colleen kissed Sam’s cheek and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Keith’s chest ached. 

Shiro deserved a life like this. 

Keith couldn’t give that to him. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Colleen reached across her husband’s lap and put her hand on Keith’s arm. 

Keith forced himself to smile. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” 

She watched him a few seconds longer. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight. We still have yours and Matt’s bunk beds.”

“Oh God, Mom,” Matt laughed loudly and pulled a photo from the box, “Are you dressed like Madonna?”

“I’ll have you know that I was very hot back then!” she laughed and grabbed the photo from Matt. 

Keith mumbled an excuse and stood. He listened to them laughing as he retreated down the hall. 

Second door on the right. His and Matt's room. Without thinking, he opened the door and flicked the light switch. A huff of laughter came out more like a sob. The room was almost exactly how he remembered. His constellation themed sheets and Walking Dead posters were still on full display on the bottom bunk. His overfilled desk and sticker covered desk lamp sat undisturbed. Even an old iPod plasted in duct tape and full of My Chemical Romance and those Dolly Parton songs his father had always hummed was still there.

Keith took a few steps inside before he just couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Tears splashed onto the carpet. He’d had so much and had no idea.

No fucking clue.

With a shuddering breath, he turned to leave only to come face with face with Sam.

Keith struggled to regain his composure. He sniffed and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand trying for a casual air. “I-uh can’t believe you kept all my junk.”

“You call this junk?” Sam gestured at the room and chuckled to himself. The older man leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed and a sad smile playing across his lips. 

The silence stretched on awkward and heavy. 

Sam sighed and pushed off the doorframe. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and said, “You’re not staying, are you?”

Keith swallowed over the knot in his throat and shook his head. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Sam patted him and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’ve grown a lot over these past few years. But at the root of it all, you’re still you. Still that stubborn boy with a big heart that’s been hurt too many times. Still trying to take the burden all on yourself without asking for help.”

“Sam…There’s no other way this time.”

“I’m sure you believe that. You always have.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith sniffed and toed at the carpet. He felt 15 again. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish a lot of things. I wish I’d listened. I wish I’d been better for you.”

“Keith,” Sam’s voice was firm. “You were-You  _ are _ my son. Just how you are. There is no ‘better’. No ‘worse’. Just you. And I want to stop you from doing whatever you’re about to do, but I can’t. And I won’t. But… I want you to know that I love you.  _ We  _ love you. And this will always be your home.”

Keith choked out a sob and Sam pulled him into a tight embrace and stroked his hair. “I’m proud of you, Keith. I’ve always been so proud of you.”

Keith couldn’t form words he could only nod as he pulled away. He had to go. He had to go now or he wouldn’t be able to. 

He formed the runes with his hands and opened a portal. And with one last look at Sam, he stepped through. “I love you too… Dad.”

  
  
  
  


Keith stepped out of the portal into darkness. His boots echoed on the dirty concrete every sound magnified by the unnatural quiet enveloping the abandoned Carter Carburetor building. The building alone was over 480,000 square feet of crumbling brick, jagged lead glass, asbestos, and any number of impossible to pronounce things that existed solely to poison and kill you. 

But Keith was there for a different kind of killer.

He’d told Lotor exactly where to find him. Where to get the one death he craved more than any other. 

All he had to do was show up. 

Across the pockmarked production floor stood two figures wrapped in shadow. The smaller of the two waved an arm causing a nearby barrell to burst into flames. He stepped into the light with a manic smile, “Exorcist. Still a man of his word.”

Keith let a cigarette. “Lotor. Still a fraud.” He took a long drag. “Let’s dance.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Two -by WH Auden
> 
>  
> 
> You are the town and we are the clock.  
> We are the guardians of the gate in the rock  
> The Two  
> On your left and on your right  
> In the day and in the night,  
> We are watching you.
> 
> Wiser not to ask just what has occurred  
> To them who disobeyed our word;  
> To those  
> We were the whirlpool, we were the reef,  
> We were the formal nightmare, grief  
> And the unlucky rose.
> 
> Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words  
> When the ships from the islands laden with birds  
> Come in  
> Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives:  
> The expansive moments of constricted lives  
> In the lighted inn.
> 
> But do not imagine we do not know  
> Nor that what you hide with such care won't show  
> At a glance  
> Nothing is done, nothing is said,  
> But don't make the mistake of believing us dead:  
> I shouldn't dance.
> 
> We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall.  
> We've been watching you over the garden wall  
> For hours.  
> The sky is darkening like a stain  
> Something is going to fall like rain  
> And it won't be flowers.
> 
> When the green field comes off like a lid  
> Revealing what was much better hid:  
> Unpleasant.  
> And look, behind you without a sound  
> The woods have come and are standing round  
> In deadly crescent.
> 
> The bolt is sliding in its groove,  
> Outside the window is the black remov-  
> ers van.  
> And now with sudden swift emergence  
> Comes the women in dark glasses and the humpbacked surgeons  
> And the scissor man.
> 
> This might happen any day  
> So be careful what you say  
> Or do.  
> Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock,  
> Trim the garden, wind the clock,  
> Remember the Two.

“It’s depressingly strange how some events- Events that seem so completely meaningless in their moment... How they shift the gears of our lives and the lives of others around us.” Lotor cocked his head and looked at Keith thoughtfully.

Keith frowned. “Are we doing this?”

“Eager to die?” Lotor clasped his hands behind his back and smiled.

Keith shifted sensing movement in the darkness behind Lotor.

Sendak.

He flexed his fingers, scratching an intangible itch. His eyes followed the along the walls just behind what was moving there.

“You know… Really, I should thank you,” Lotor drew Keith’s gaze back. He was closer now. Much closer.

Keith stepped back. “For what?” He swallowed hard.

“I owe you so much. My wife, for example.”

The atmosphere shifted.

“I had nothing to do with Acxa’s death, Lotor. You know this.”

“I do. But… Without your neglect, I’d never have had her. And without your arrogance, why… I’d never had come across the means to bring her back.”

The darkness behind him pulsed and writhed with intent. Another barrel burst into flames behind Lotor. Then another. The broken lead glass glittered and gleamed in the flickering light, bringing attention to the body neatly resting on the filthy floor.

Keith’s heart seized in his chest.  “Christ…” he managed to choke out between the bile rising in the back of his throat. Tears blurred his vision as he looked upon the rotted corpse of his first friend, his first love. “Acxa…”

“Now you understand, Exorcist,” Lotor’s voice cut through Keith’s disbelief. “Once the ritual is complete she’ll be whole again and we’ll-”

“You’re a fucking fool!” Keith grit his teeth as hot angry tears burned down his cheeks. “He’s using you! He isn’t bringing her back!”

Lotor hummed and shook his head with a quiet chuckle “I expected you’d think as much.” He kicked a foot out and kicked a brick away.  “But, for all of your _talents_ , you lack understanding. I am not merely receiving favors from his Lordship; I am his apprentice.  I have put the work in to prove my usefulness. My loyalty. My… Eagerness.” He smiled again. All teeth and no joy. ”There are only two small steps left before everything falls into place.”

Energy pulsed behind Keith. The darkness was now tangible. Thick. The air was heavy and foul and anxious. Like thousands of rats waiting to feed. Keith bit down on his fear, his disgust. “I’m not here to be some sacrifice. Killing me won’t bring her back. He just wants revenge.”

Lotor quirked a brow. “Still as arrogant as ever.”

Darkness moved closer from behind. Keith flicked his gaze back, just for a moment. Then back. Lotor was mere inches from his face. Eyes wild and teeth bared. His hand was cold on Keith’s skin as he caressed his cheek. “Putting you in danger will summon _him_ . _His_ death will resurrect my wife.” Lotor locked eyes with Keith and pulled the dagger from Keith’s side. “Your death is just a bonus.”

He plunged the steel into Keith’s stomach.

Keith let out a breathless noise as hot liquid flooded his mouth. Lotor twisted the blade. Keith tried to yell. To scream. But he could only cough. Scarlet specks splattered across Lotor’s face. He pulled Keith tighter pushing the steel deeper until the hilt bit into flesh. Leaning his face against Keith’s cheek, Lotor whispered, “Now you’ll lose the one you love.”

A white light flashed across the factory floor. Lotor pushed him away.

Keith tucked his chin and grasped his stomach. He landed hard on the concrete, blood pouring over his lips and through his fingers.

“Keith!”

It couldn’t be. He closed his eyes and his let his head rest against the floor. It all made sense. He was such an idiot.

“Keith! Keith! No!”

Big, warm hands pulled him close. Strong arms cradled him against a familiar chest. He opened his eyes and struggled to speak. He tried to warn Shiro. Tell him to go. Run. But he only managed to bleed on his bare chest.

“Keith…” Shiro pressed on the wound and held him close pressing kisses across his blood soaked lips. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re going to be ok. Ok? It’s ok.”

But it wasn’t. He needed to go.

A stiff, heavy feeling crept up Keith’s limbs. Every heartbeat brought the looming haze of unconsciousness closer.

“Nephilim!”

Shiro stiffened and pulled Keith tighter. He turned toward the firelight glow, toward Lotor, his beautiful face a mask of rage. His eyes shone gold in the low light.  “You…” He laid Keith gently on the ground and rose to his feet, eyes focused on Lotor. The writhing black mass behind them pulsed in anticipation. Keith struggled to move his hand to grab at Shiro.

He didn't know what was there.

  


///////////

“It's simple, Takashi.” Ariel squeezed Shiro's shoulder and let go. “Concentrate on where you want to be. Picture it. Picture _him_. And bid yourself appear.”

With a deep breath, Shiro closed his eyes and pictured Keith.

Fiery, beautiful, angry Keith. Keith who relentlessly drew Shiro to himself. Keith who Shiro could no longer imagine his life without.

Keith.

The man he loved.

The air buzzed electric. The pressure shifted.

Shiro opened his eyes.

And was greeted by a bone-chilling sight.

Keith trapped in the embrace of another man. A dagger in his belly and blood on his lips.

“Keith!”

Lotor pushed Keith away letting him fall hard onto the floor. “Keith! Keith! No!” Shiro ran, eyes only for the body on the ground, paying no mind the wrongness in the air nor the evil pulsing in the dark, tendrils writhing in his peripheral.

No.

Shiro saw only Keith as he gathered into his arms brushing hair back. “Keith…”

Keith's lips moved but there were no words, only blood. Fighting back tears, he kissed bloodied lips. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re going to be ok. Ok? It’s ok.”

Keith's desperation, his fear, called out to Shiro. But his resignation hurt the most.

Keith was dying.

And he accepted it.

Shiro didn't.

He tried to teleport them away, but it wouldn't work. He was blocked. Like pushing against a phantom wall in his mind.

“Nephilim!”

Shiro squeezed Keith tighter. The shadows surged.

He turned to Lotor, rage reducing his vision down to point. “You…”

If Shiro wanted to save Keith, he had to kill Lotor. So as gently as he could, he lay Keith on the ground and rose to his feet. Satisfaction rolled off the man as he spoke, “You cannot imagine how pleased we are to see you, lion cub.”

Shiro clenched his fists. Power surged through his body. “I'll be the last thing you see.”

Lotor smiled.

Shiro lunged.

Lotor blocked his fist with an unnatural strength, smile curling into a snarl, his eyes wide and wild. Long white hair fell free, framing his perfect features as he met Shiro blow for blow.

Lotor’s amusement was punctuated by bursts of breathless laughter as they fought. The darkness was closing in from behind seeming to reach out and caress Shiro’s back every time he landed a blow.

They moved closer to the burning barrels where the stench of decay was strongest. Lotor dodged another punch and fell into a crouch, attempting to sweep Shiro’s legs.

Before Lotor brought his leg around, Shiro brought a strike down on his neck. Lotor fell to the side and rolled out of reach. He grabbed a rusted piece of rebar and came back at Shiro. Shiro blocked the strike with his prosthetic arm. The hollow clang of metal on metal rang through his ears. Lotor kicked out again knocking Shiro off balance. Shiro stumbled, but remained upright. Lotor spun around and brought the bar down across Shiro’s ribs. Bones cracked and Shiro’s lungs burned. Still he struck out only to be dealt another blow across the chest.

Lotor gave him no respite, he struck again and again. Shiro mind raced. He couldn’t go down like this. He braced himself for another strike, but it never came. He looked up at Lotor who smiled back down at him. He tossed the bar aside and lifted his arms.

“Sendak!” He looked behind Shiro calling to the shadows. Heavy wisps of smoke swept past Shiro and began to form a humanoid shape behind Lotor. A crazed smile stretched across Lotor’s face, pulling the corners of his mouth into unnatural configurations. His pupils dilated and his eyes bulged. Lotor was no longer the beautiful aristocrat, but the very picture of what he exuded: mania.  

Pure mania.

Shiro stepped back instinctively.

The shadowman behind Lotor placed a hand on each shoulder. Its eyes, one red and one yellow, opened. Fangs. Two perfect rows of yellowed fangs cut across the face like a wound. Salvia glistening in the firelight. A voice, deep and reverberating spoke as the darkness solidified. “Wiser not to ask just what has occurred to them who disobeyed our word.” Jagged points of stone, claws, cut past fabric and into Lotor’s flesh. Dark blood seeping from the punctures. “To those…”

Lotor’s laughter continued, voice cracking and tears pouring down his cheeks.

Dread filled Shiro as he watched.

The creature, Sendak, lifted his hand from a shoulder and brought a finger to Lotor’s stretched lips. The sudden silence was just as eerie as the laughter as the smile remained. Sendak patted the top of the human’s head. “We were the whirlpool, we were the reef. We…” He wound long tendrils of hair around his finger. “Were the reef. _We_ were the formal nightmare… Grief.” He tugged Lotor’s head back roughly. The man didn’t flinch. Tears still streaming down his face. “And the unlucky rose.” Sendak drug a claw across Lotor’s throat. The pop of sinew and the gurgle of blood mixing with air were the only sounds Shiro could hear.

His stomach clenched and fear rose. He had to get Keith out of here. Now.

The demon hummed in satisfaction and let a finger dip into the wound. “This is as far as you can take me, servant.” He used the bloody finger to draw a symbol on Lotor’s forehead. Then, he let the body drop unceremoniously to the dirty floor. He watched it land. Then set his sights on Shiro.

He stepped forward out of the shadows leaving them behind like a snake shedding skin, revealing his true form. Sendak was tall with skin tinted sickly purple like a day old bruise. Small, thick horns adorned the sides of his head crowning fleshy feline ears. Ancient black armor covered his broad chest and bull-like legs leaving arms and stomach exposed. He smiled.

Shiro stood his ground while silently trying to will himself to Keith’s side.

The demon let out a horse-like huff. “The real prize. The elder cub. Tell me, did you like the messages I left for you?”

“What do you want?” Shiro stepped back again. He needed to be closer to Keith. He tried again to teleport. He block was weaker. The wall giving away.

“I failed in my retrieval of the younger twin, but I will not fail with you.”

Shiro took another step back.

“Your brother thought he could stop my plans by sacrificing himself. By leaving you clues. What a fool… ” He held out his hand. “I have proposition for you, Takashi Shirogane.”

“What?” He just needed a little more time. A small gasp caught Shiro’s attention. Keith. He turned to his lover’s body, bleeding out on the cold concrete. He was gasping for breath. The wet squelch of lungs filling with fluid was all Shiro could hear. “No…”

The demon was on Shiro then. He loomed above the nephilim gripping his arms too tightly. “You can save your human.” The sickly sweet scent of decay filled Shiro’s nostrils. Heat radiated from Sendak’s slick body. “Serve me, lion cub. I will teach you to use your power. To rule. By combining our power, we will overtake this pathetic world. Fucking its corpse into fires of hell. You will answer to none. You will be a king. And you will have your Exorcist by your side.”

Keith gurgled again.

Shiro glanced back at Keith and turned to Sendak. His voice was tight with fear when he spoke, “You will spare Keith?”

“Yes.”

“And my human family?”

“Yes.” The fires flared. “You’ll have everything you want.”

“I…” Shiro looked back to Keith and closed his eyes. “Everything?”  

“Keith Kogane will never fear death again.”

Keith’s wet breaths were becoming more frantic. Desperate. He was dying.

Keith was dying.

And it was killing Shiro.

 _“There are things worse than death.”_ Keith’s words crept into his mind.

He knew what he had to do.

He furrowed his brow and set his jaw and faced Sendak. He pushed back and spat on the demon’s chestplate. “Fuck you.”

Shiro’s powers surged and he teleported to Keith’s side, cradling the man to his chest. He couldn’t teleport out, but he could move Keith. He teleported again, this time behind a decrepit steel press. Shiro rolled Keith to his side where he coughed and spat blood on the dust and spider webs. Keith took weak gasping breaths.  He tried to reach for the dagger still lodged in his stomach. “No, Keith. Leave it.” Keith shook his head weakly.

Shiro reached to brush his hair back, but he was suddenly flung backwards ,flying through the air. Sendak snarled and ran at Shiro, snatching him out of the air before he even hit the wall and slamming him into the floor.

Shiro teleported out the grasp. He grabbed a broken girder and braced himself as Sendak charged him again. The steel squealed as claws slashed and gouged. Shiro landed hard on his back, but used the momentum to keep rolling. He brought his feet up beneath the girder and kicked. He let go, sending the demon and girder flying into a pillar.

The support shattered and the ceiling groaned.

Shiro ran for Keith again. He slid on his knees, ignoring the glass and metal biting into his knees and shredding the pants. He pulled Keith close and tried to teleport again.

This time they found themselves behind a skeletal conveyor. Keith was barely breathing. His pulse was fluttering. Still he reached for the blade in his stomach.

“Keith, stop. No. Please.” Shiro grabbed Keith’s hands and kissed the bloodsoaked knuckles. “Just a little longer, please. Please.”

Keith shook his head. His lips were moving. Shiro leaned closer and made out the whisper, “Angel. Blade.”

“Angel Blade?”

Keith nodded. His eyes scrunched closed and grit his teeth. A wet sucking sound caught Shiro’s attention. But it was too late. Keith had pulled the blade from his stomach. Fresh blood poured from the wound.

“No!” Shiro pushed his hand over the wound. “No!”

Keith barely held on to the hilt as he fumbled to press the it into Shiro’s chest. Keith’s motor functions gave way and Shiro caught the blade as it fell. Keith smiled and mouthed “love you” as the blade glowed in Shiro’s hand. The dagger elongated and curved into a sword.

And Keith took his last breath.

  
  


////////////

  


_“Now you'll lose the one you love.”_

Lotor’s words echoed through Keith’s hazy mind.

Love.

He loved Shiro more than he loved anything. More than anyone.

More than himself.

The best chance Shiro had to kill a fallen angel was an Angel Blade. A weapon wielded by the Principalities and Archangels. A weapon currently buried in Keith’s stomach,keeping from completely bleeding out.

If he pulled it out, he would die. Shiro would live.

His decision was made.

He managed to pulled the blade free and get Shiro to take it. He got to tell him that he loved him.

He could die now.

He closed his eyes and let go.

  


Death was no mystery to Keith Kogane.

He’d become intimately familiar with her whims since his birth, encountering it everywhere he looked. So when he let go of his final breath, Keith had expectations.

None of which included waking up at the Entrance.

Soft golden light and the scent of roses enveloped Keith’s senses, and a familiar voice greeted him. “I have a feeling that you’re intentionally making things harder than necessary.”

A figure bent over where Keith was lying, a perfectly symmetrical face face into focus. Azrael.

“I cannot believe I’ve been sent to offer you a deal.” The angel shook his head, loose curls bouncing around his face, amusement playing on his lips. “Keith Kogane, how would you like to join the Light and become one if the Forgiven?"

  


//////////////////////

  


“Keith!”  Shiro’s voice broke. He gathered Keith’s lifeless body in his arms. Sobs wracked Shiro “Keith… No…”

He was too lost in his sorrow to notice the shift in the air until a hand grabbed his throat. Sendak ripped Shiro from Keith. Somewhere the sword clattered as it fell.

“Looks like your little human won’t be joining us after all, lion cub.” The demon’s laughter reverberated through the factory. He held Shiro against the wall, squeezing tighter. “I tried to do this the easy way, but you angelic types always want to struggle.”

Shiro wanted to scream. Rage. Rip Sendak’s black heart from his chest. Power surging, he wrapped his legs around Sendak’s arm. He pushed up with his hands and pulled down with his legs. The demon’s arm snapped.

Hot strands of saliva dripped from Sendak’s fangs as he howled in pain. Shiro dropped, hard, to the ground. He sprang to his feet and lunged for the sword.

Claws pierced his calf and dragged him backwards.

“No!” He scratched at the floor searching for something, anything, he could grab. But it was fruitless.

Sendak flung Shiro in an arc over his head. Shiro focused his power and kicked off the wall, propelling himself at the demon’s chest. Sendak caught him against his chest and squeezed. Shiro bit into his enemy’s neck, skin popping under his force like sausage casing. Thick, putrid blood sloughed from the wound. Shiro pulled chunks of flesh free and spat them onto the ground. He bit down again. Tears mixed with demonic blood on his face as he tore another piece free.

Sendak clawed at Shiro’s back and bellowed into the darkness. Finally, he pulled Shiro free from his neck flung him away.

Shiro rolled as he landed and made for the sword again. The sword Keith had died to give to him. The blade glowed indigo in Shiro’s grasp, indigo like Keith’s eyes. A sob shook Shiro’s body. He turned back to Sendak and watched real fear cross the demon’s face.

Shiro gripped the hilt in his hand, energy searing through him. He felt inhuman, invincible. His back itched and shoulders burned. Sendak’s eyes widened.

The world seemed to slow around him as he walked toward the demon. The blade of the sword burst into purple flame as he approached.

Sendak didn’t run. Perhaps he couldn’t.

Instead he fell to knees before Shiro, awaiting the final strike.

And Shiro was glad to deliver.

WIth a swift arc, Shiro’s blade passed through Sendak’s neck.

He watched as black sludge poured from the wound and the head fell away. The demon’s body fell to the ground.

He was gone.

It was over.

But Shiro didn’t care.

Keith was gone.

He turned away from the corpse and numbly walked back to where he left Keith. He was taking him away from here. Away from all this… Evil.

He didn’t deserve this.

Shiro braced himself on the cold metal of the conveyor as he rounded the corner, bracing himself for the sight of cold Keith on the ground, all the flame and fire gone.

Instead he found Keith's body was gone. Nothing left of the sun but dark pools of blood. Panic rose. “No!” His heart hammered in his chest. Tears blurred his vision. “No!” His hands shook. His knees gave way. And he could only scream.

Keith wasn’t just dead.

He was dead and gone.

  
  


/////////////////////

  


Keith appeared in the corner of the room. Shiro was supposed to be here. He felt his presence. But what he saw as he stepped around the corner was not the beautiful detective he’d fallen in love with.

It was an avenging angel.

Shiro cut an awe-inspiring sight tall and broad with Angel Blade in hand bathing him in pulsing blue light. He was beautiful. He was terrifying. He was soaked in the black blood of a demon with smokey colored wings tucked against his back.

He turned from the decapitated corpse of the demon who had ruined Keith’s life and staggered toward the conveyor he'd left Keith behind.

He could hear Shiro, but something was wrong. Keith stepped forward unsure. “Shiro?”

He let out anguished cry.

Keith ran.

Shiro was on his knees next to a puddle of blood. His wings flared wide and his face contorted in grief.

“Shiro!” Keith fell to his knees in front of him wrapping his arms around his waist. He nuzzled into his neck. “Takashi!”

Shiro froze in his grasp. “K-Keith?” He grabbed Keith's shoulders and pushed him back. He stared down with wide golden eyes and choked out a sob. “Keith…” Shiro crushed him against his bare, bloodied chest. “You're-You're here.” He kissed the top of Keith's head. Over and over. Grey wings wrapped around his back.

Until Shiro startled.

He held Keith tigheter and the wings flared out. “Keith!”

Keith laughed against Shiro's chest. “Relax, Shiro. Ssshhh….” He kissed him and cupped his face with both hands.

“I have wings.”

Keith hummed and wiped Shiro's lips clean before dropping a chaste kiss on them. “They're beautiful.”

“You’re alive.”

“I am.” He kissed him again. “Now let's get the fuck out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be nothing without my amazing beta [CrytidKickFlip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip/pseuds/cryptidkickflip)
> 
> We're almost done now...


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.  
> So... I want to thank you all for reading.  
> This fic has been so much fun to write. And I certainly couldn't have done it without my beautiful Beta, Oli.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this little wrap-up.

“Don’t you think that this is a little, I don’t know… A little much?”

Shiro smiled indulgently and popped a grape in his mouth. “No.”

Keith hopped onto the counter and leaned on his arms. “We could just say that something came up.” He smirked. “You know… I bet they could use a hand with the rebelling leyaks on Bali.”

“Hhhmmm…” Shiro moved between Keith’s legs and rubbed his hands up his arms. “Really?”

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him closer. “And your presence would be a deterrent. They’d stop being dicks and negotiate.”

Shiro nuzzled Keith’s neck leaving small dry kisses in his wake as he moved further down. “Would they?” He pushed Keith’s collar side with his chin and slid his hands under the hem of Keith’s untucked shirt.

Keith bit his lip and hooked his legs around his boyfriend’s waist. He gasped when Shiro bit down on neck. He rocked his hips against Shiro’s abdomen. “Let’s go.” Keith pulled Shiro’s face up, hungry eyes locked onto Keith’s. With a smirk, Keith slowly trailed a hand from Shiro’s neck to the perfectly pressed collar of his shirt and popped a button. “It’s warm and bright.” He popped another and leaned closer to Shiro’s face, letting his lips hover in the pretense of contact. “Fuck me on the beach, angel. Wash me off in the ocean.”  Shiro groaned as Keith closed the distance between them. Keith smiled against Shiro’s lips and reached for another button.

Shiro caught his hand. “We’ve been planning this for weeks.” He kissed Keith’s pouty lips. “Otherwise, I’d have you right here.” His eyes flashed as he leaned in to kiss Keith again. “Next time, sweetheart.” He patted Keith’s hip and went back to opening a wine bottle.

Keith hopped off the counter and tugged his shirt back down. "Tease." He spun the ring on his finger and worried his lip with his teeth. In the six months since his change, Keith's life had changed so completely that sometimes he didn't recognize it.

Happiness wasn't something he was used to. It felt so fragile.

On those quiet nights in between assignments, he found himself waking in the middle of the night. He’d carefully unwind himself from Shiro's warmth and crawl into the window seat. He'd watch Shiro sleeping and wonder how long he’d get to have this.

How long until the other shoe dropped?

How long until he lost Shiro?

He’d sit there until dawn fighting down the demons inside. Struggling with the fear of loss and the doubt that he deserved to feel this way.

It’s one of the reasons he agreed to tonight.

He needed to make it official. Make it real. It was too easy for this new life to feel like a dream when it was just the two of them.

But he was still afraid.

The cork popped free.

Keith startled.

“Hey…” Shiro put the bottle down and pulled Keith into tight embrace. “I know you’re nervous.” He kissed the top of his head. “I’m nervous too.” He tilted Keith’s chin up and smiled down. “It’s going to be ok. They’re our families.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he groused. Shiro’s laughter reverberated through Keith’s chest and warmed him. “I love you.”

Shiro smiled softly and rubbed small circles on small of Keith’s back. “I love you.”

The doorbell rang.

“Last chance for Bali,” Keith offered.

Shiro chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t tempt me.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

“Keith.”

“Fine.” Keith flexed his fingers and watched Shiro disappear around through the swinging door. He listened to muffled conversations while he hid in the kitchen. He could just open a portal, step through it, and disappear into the darkness.

Not that it would do much good. After just a few months of training and field work, Shiro was quickly becoming a master tracker. He'd find Keith in an instant and drag him back with just a few words and a kiss.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Shiro smiled from the doorway and held out his hand.

Keith swallowed and spun his ring again. "No." He took Shiro's hand. "But you already knew that."

He let Shiro lead him into the parlor.

The parlor.

God.

This house was huge. Impractical for just the two of them, but Ariel had insisted that they take it. A gift, he said, for bringing Shiro into his life. Besides, Shiro joked, Keith had plenty of things to fill it with. Which was true. He already had a weapons room, a relic room, a gym, a playroom… That last one wasn’t on the tour though.

Shiro squeezed Keith’s hand as they entered the parlor bringing him back to the present.

A low whistle sounded from across the room. “Look at you,” Pidge crossed her arms and smirked.

Matt swirled a bourbon glass and leaned against the fireplace. “I think Shiro bought him a hairbrush.”

Pidge flopped down in an overstuffed Chesterfield chair next to Lance, her mismatched Converse not quite touching the ground. Lance twined their hands together as she assessed Keith over the rim of her glasses. “Aw, yes. The hairbrush. Good investment, old bean.”

“Indubitably,” Matt added.

“Will you two stop?” Colleen’s smile belied her tone. She pulled Keith into a gentle hug, kissing his cheek and humming. “You look good, honey.”

Some of the tension eased as he pulled away from Colleen and smiled at Sam. “Sir.”

Sam hugged him tightly. “You need to visit more often.” Shiro laughed behind them. Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Both of you do. It’s been weeks since you were at dinner.”

The doorbell sounded again.

“I’ll get it,” Shiro offered.

Sam patted Keith on the shoulder. “You look happy, son.”

Keith smiled. “I am.”  They turned as Shiro reentered the room.

“This is Ami and Steven,” Shiro paused and squeezed the woman’s hand. “My parents.”

Immediately Colleen and Sam greeted the Shiroganes and pulled them toward the couches, talking excitedly.

Keith felt another ounce of tension slip away as Shiro wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned on his back. “Better than Bali?”

Keith snorted and leaned in Shiro’s chest. The Holts barely let the Shiroganes get a word in, but nobody seemed to mind. Ami smiled shyly at Colleen and Steven listened to Sam wide-eyed.  It was all so normal. So real.

Keith smiled.

“So, are you gonna tell us what we’re doing here?” Lance asked as Pidge reached across him to pick up a figurine.

“Yeah,” she flipped the porcelain and swinted at the stamp. “What’s up?”

Keith looked up at Shiro and sighed. “We’re getting married.”

“Married? Like people married?” Lance asked. “Does that even matter for-”

Pidge clapped her hand over his mouth and smiled. “We’re so happy for you! I call dibs on Keith’s best man!”

Lance wrenched his face free. “Hey! You can’t do that! I have dibs!”

Shiro ran his hands down Keith’s sides. “Wow. You’re popular.”

“That’s just because I have dibs on being Shiro’s best man,” Matt laughed and leaned on the back of the chair Lance and Pidge shared. “They don’t stand a chance against me.”

Colleen and Ami wrapped Keith in a hug. Sam pulled him out of their grasp and into tight embrace of his own. Steven patted him on the back.

As night passed filled with warmth and chatter, Keith made his way to the solarium. He pulled the cord from his hair and shook it free. He rolled his sleeves to his elbow and caught sight of his ring.

He smiled at the memory of Shiro here on his knee holding Keith’s hand. “Marry me?”

He’d laughed through his tears. “Shiro,” he sniffed. “Takashi... “ He knelt in front of him and cupped his face. “We’re immortal now. Don’t you think it’s a little-”

“No.” Keith had startled at the abruptness of the reply. Shiro had kiss his palm and channelled his feelings into Keith. He was learning control, but with just a touch, he could let Keith feel his sincerity, his devotion. His absolute love. “Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.” He swallowed thickly. “I know you’re scared. I feel it. I want to quiet that fear. You’re not alone anymore, baby.”

“Shiro,” Keith had whispered, overcome. “Yes.” He pulled Shiro into tender kiss. The taste of salt and wine mingled on their tongues. “Yes. Marry me. Please.”

They’d spent the rest of the night making love on every piece of furniture in the room.

“Mind if I join you?”

Sam’s voice pulled Keith from his revere. He cleared his throat. “Sam. Hey. No, you’re fine.” Sam offered Keith a cigar. “Ha… No. Um… I-I quit.”

Sam smiled and looked up at the moon. “So… Married, huh?”

Keith felt the heat creep up his cheeks. “Yeah. Well, you and Colleen made it look so easy.”

Sam laughed. The silence stretched on, comfortable in a way that it never had been growing up.  They watched the clouds drift as the laughter trickled in from the open door. And again, Keith found himself wondering if all of this was real.

“She’d be proud of you, Keith.”

He looked over at Sam who was still watching the sky. “Who?”

“Your mother. Krolia.” He smiled at Keith. “Wherever she is. She’d be proud of you.”

Keith throat felt tight. His eyes prickled with unshed tears. He knew where she was. She was at peace. Finally. He’d let her cross over and in doing so, she was no longer a reminder, but a  memory.

A loving memory.

“We’re proud of you too, Keith.” Sam patted his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

“Sam?” Colleen’s voice sounded over another round of laughter.

“Better go.” Sam patted Keith’s shoulder again and turned away.

“Wait!” Keith spun and grabbed Sam, hugging him. Tears sprang free. “Thank you.”

”Sam!” Colleen called again.

Sam pulled back and coughed. A few tears rolled from beneath his glasses. “I’ll see you inside.” He nodded to Shiro as he exited.

Shiro stepped into the solarium. His eyes flashed as he took in his fiance’s tears. “Keith?” His expression changed as he approached. Keith felt the telltale tingle of Shiro’s empathy. He wouldn’t pry, but he’d make damn sure that Keith was ok. With relief he gathered Keith into his arms. “It’s getting late. Everyone’s getting ready to go.”

Keith nuzzled into Shiro’s chest, tears slowing. “Okay.”

“Baby.”

“Hhhmmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A flash of light illuminated the night. “Sorry to interrupt, boys.” Azrael couldn’t keep the smile from his voice.

Keith nuzzled further into Shiro’s chest. “Go away.”

“What is it, Azrael?” Shiro asked.

“Your father wants you to intervene in Bali. It appears the leyaks have set fire to the treaty. Again.”

Keith peeked over his shoulder at the angel. “Bali?” He wiped his tears on the back of his hand and looked up at Shiro with a smirk. “Did you hear that, angel? Looks like we’re going to Bali.”

Shiro feigned annoyance. “Why do I feel like this is your fault?” He kissed Keith. “Do you always get what you want?”

Keith laughed. “Not yet. But this is a good start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the credits roll:
> 
>  
> 
> [listen to this](https://youtu.be/eYAQeV9Z00M)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much!  
> More to come, but in the meantime, come and yell about Voltron on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kittykittymoon) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Kittykittymoon) with me!


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